Tears of an Angel
by dreamerwriter15
Summary: Draco Malfoy falls for Rose, a Pure-Blooded Gryfindor, in their fifth year, but he'll have to right many wrongs to win her heart. When Voldemort vows to kill her if Draco doesn't kill Dumbledore, Draco vows to protect her at any cost. Will Rose be able to help Draco combat the darkness controling him while trying to let him heal her heart, and uncover her own mysterious past?
1. Prologue

Prologue: _10 years before_

Emma Braddock adjusted the skirt of the lacy pink dress her oldest daughter Rose wore. The five year old squirmed a bit as her mother fussed over her. "Mummy, why do I have to wear this today?"

Emma gazed into her daughter's vibrant green eyes as she sighed, tousling her daughter's long strawberry blonde hair that was so much like her own. Rose had asked this question all morning, and Emma had had to explain to her over and over again that they were meeting some friends of theirs and Rose would meet their son for the first time, so she had to look presentable. Since Rose was the oldest child and heir to one of the richest and oldest pure-blood families, Emma wouldn't accept anything less.

"I already told you Rose, we are meeting some friends of ours. You must look presentable." Emma ground out as she tugged on the hem of her daughter's dress while a self sewing needle stitched it dress maker had made a mistake and hemmed the dress to floor length, much too long for a girl of Rose's age.

When the two-year-old twins screamed in the next room, Emma called, "Mazis!" Instantly, a long eared house elf appeared out of thin air, startling the little girl standing in the middle of her rose and violet colored room.

"You called, Milady?" asked the old elf in a low voice. Emma nodded her head toward the door and the twins screamed again. The house elf disappeared and took care of the twin girls, leaving their mother free to tend to their sister once more.

A knock at the door resounded through the grand house and Emma almost panicked, her daughter had tripped while trying to walk out of the room and torn the filmy fabric on the skirt of her dress. Emma took her wand off of her daughters vanity and pointed to the tear. "Reparo." The fabric mended and fused as if it had never ripped.

Emma led Rose safely out of the room as one of the servants opened the door for the platinum haired family that strode into Braddock Manor. The father looked around the room, searching for the master of the house. He appeared shortly, in a black and white dinner jacket and black trousers as his wife and daughter descended the stairs. "Lucius. Good to see you old friend." Hawthorn Braddock greeted the tall wizard.

Lucius Malfoy shook Hawthorn's hand politely. "Hello Hawthorn," He answered.

Narcissa Malfoy looked up the stairs as she held her young son still. Emma glided down the stairs as her daughter followed as gracefully as she could. "Narcissa, my dearest friend." Emma smiled as she gave her a hug. Narcissa's son looked uncomfortable at the show of affection his mother was showing her friend. After his mother finished greeting her friend, Draco noticed the red head hiding behind her mother's skirts.

Emma, you are glowing." The witch exclaimed in regards to her friend's current pregnancy. Narcissa also noticed the young girl behind her friend. ""Is this your daughter Rose?" she asked as she knelt to Rose's level. The girl in the pink dress sucked in a breath and hid further behind her mother.

"Rose, say hello."

Rose peeked out of her hiding place and whispered timidly, "Hello."

Narcissa smiled and Rose gained the courage to step out from behind her mother. Just by looking at her now, Narcissa knew that Rose would be a beauty among witches when she came of age. "Young Draco, I presume?" asked Emma.

"Yes," the witch proclaimed, resting her hands proudly on Draco's shoulders.

"Hello Rose," Draco said cautiously, reacting to some cue from his mother.

"Hello... Draco." Rose answered slowly, then smiled, growing more comfortable around the pale boy.

"Okay. Run along you two. Narcissa and I have things to discuss." Emma laughed. Rose led Draco out the door into the garden.

Their parents had been wise to bring them together. Rose and Draco hit it off, often meeting every weekend over their childhood. Rose learned that Draco was very interested in dueling, often catching him practicing the wand movements over and over when she was a guest at Malfoy Manor, and he learned about her great skill in the healing arts once when they fell from a tree during the summer they turned eight.

Draco became cocky but kind and well spoken over his friendship with Rose, and she eventually introduced him to her good friend Luna Lovegood, hoping that he embrace and enjoy her eccentricities as much as she did.

When the children received their long awaited acceptance letters from Hogwarts, the pair were tremendously excited that they would be going to the same school. They both knew that Draco's father wanted him sent to Durmstrang.

On the day that Emma was taking Rose to Diagon Alley to buy her school things and meet up with the Malfoys, Narcissa arrived unexpectedly early with eleven year old Draco in tow. "Emma, I hate to ask you this, but would you take Draco to do his school shopping? Someone has stolen from the Malfoy Vault!"

"Oh. Of course Narcissa."

Narcissa smiled and sprinted back out the door as Emma ushered the children into a carriage and on the way to Diagon Alley. She led them through the crowded walkway to an aging building with a round bay window. A sign painted in faded, peeling letters read: Olivander's, Makers of fine wands since 382 B.C.

"Go inside. Mr. Olivander will help you. I'll go and take care of the rest of your things. Head over to Madame Malkin's when you are done here. I will meet you both there." Emma told them.

"We will mother." Rose assured her. Emma continued down the alley. Draco and Rose walked into the shop and Rose marveled at the size of the shop, which was stocked well with dusty boxes piled high on old shelves. Draco, disinterested with the shop, strode up to the front desk and rang the bell. Its shrill chime rang through the shop and a man leaned over the desk, somewhat startling the children.

"Ah, I should have known I'd see you two in here soon enough. I remember when your parents were buying their first wands, Miss Braddock and Mr. Malfoy." The friends looked at each other, amazed, as he dove into the recesses of his shop.

"How could he know that?" whispered Rose, startled that an enchanted measuring tape was gauging various distances between her body parts. When it was finished with her it moved to the blonde.

"I don't know." Draco answered her before the wand-maker returned with various boxes in his hands. The pair tried out countless wands until Mr. Olivander rummaged through the boxes at the very back of his shop, reappearing shortly with two unassuming wand cases in his hands.

He uncased each. One was a solid black wand with a smooth, well carved handle. The second, very similar to the other in shape, was a bit longer with floral vines winding up the wand from the handle to about four inches from the tip. The wand was a deep brown color.

"Try these two." Mr. Olivander instructed. Draco reached for the black one, more to his liking. "Ten inches exactly. Unicorn hair. Hawthorn wood. Reasonably pliant." Rose for the other. "Eleven inches. Unicorn hair. Holly. Fairly unyielding." The room instantly filled with light as the friends held their new wands. "Curious. Very curious." The wand-maker remarked.

Rose turned to the white haired man. "Excuse me Sir, but what do you find curious?"

"Your wands seem very different. But, the unicorn that gave you the core for your wand Miss Braddock, also gave the core for Mr. Malfoy's." He looked at Draco.

"What does that mean?" Asked Draco.

"It means, that since your wands are what we call 'Brothers', they have very special properties when used together, and one can not be used against the other."

"Thank you, Mr. Olivander." Rose finished, then walked out the door with Draco.

Mrs. Malfoy was waiting for them in Madame Malkin's when they arrived, but she did not see Draco's reaction to a messy haired green eyed boy when he walked in.

Rose's mother led them into the owl emporium and Rose fell in love with a ginger colored cat that she named Harper, and Draco came out with a Barn Owl he named Augustus.

The next week found the pair on the train to Hogwarts. They sat together, even though Rose's cousin Ron invited her to sit with him and a black haired boy. Remarkably, the boy's eyes were the same exact shade of emerald green as her own. She refused the offer.

At the Sorting Ceremony, Draco went before Rose. The old hat had barely been on his head for a second when it called out, "Slytherin!" The Slytherin table clapped as he joined them.

After her cousin, sorted into Gryfindor as she had suspected, Rose was called. The hat was placed on her head and took longer to figure out where she belonged. Finally, after completely throwing out the possibility of Slytherin House right off the bat, it tossed around Ravenclaw and Gryfindor before Rose's family legacy won out. "Gryfindor!"


	2. How it all began

_Rose's POV_

_1_

Rain poured outside the manor in Wiltshire England that had been my family's home for over five generations. It was situated in close proximity to the Malfoy Estate, even though I hadn't really _talked_ to Draco or had a meaningful conversation with him in over a year. Our time at Hogwarts was changing him from the sensitive boy I once knew to something dark and tearing our former close friendship apart. That unfortunate reality saddened me. My trio of friends, which included my rather-annoying-but-I-still-loved-him cousin Ron Weasely, was slowly taking his place, but I had a history with Draco Malfoy that they could never really fill.

"Rose, are you ready, darling? It's almost time for you and Harry to go." My mother called from the first floor.

Breaking out of my reverie, I stopped staring out into the rain and turned back to my bed, where a tightly packed brown trunk lay open. "Almost Mum." I replied, hoping that I had yelled loud enough for mum to hear me. I checked my trunk for the third time, making totally sure that I had everything. I had my clothes; school robes; text books; personal things; wand; odds and ends. I looked over my list again.

I closed the trunk, sitting on it to make it latch, and grabbed Harper's cage as she wove her way between my legs and out of my room. The heavy trunk thudded to the floor before I wheeled it out of the room. When I left for my first year, I had two trunks and my cat, but with each year that passed I consolidated little by little as I realized what I really needed and what I could do without.

I shut my door, the third one that lined the white marble wall, and saw Harry doing the same. His owl hooted and flapped about in her cage. He calmed her down before he navigated the marble stairs to the ground floor. We were flooing ourselves: Harry to his aunt's home; my father, my little brother and myself to the home of Sirius Black. My aunt, uncle, most of my cousins, and several other adults that I trusted, including my godfather Professor Snape, my favorite teacher, a fact that confounded all of my friends; were already there.

Immediately after the return of the Dark Lord, Professor Dumbledore reactivated The Order of The Phoenix, a secret organization he formed during the First Wizarding War to fight the Dark Lord. Some of the most powerful and skilled wizards and witches in Britain were members, including my parents; Harry's; and Neville's. Many of the teachers at Hogwarts were members as well, and others, such as Mundungus Fletcher: an annoying little man who seemed to be a kleptomaniac; had power or connections that benefited the Order.

I met Harry in front of the massive fireplace in the foyer. It was white marble, like most of the ancient manor. Ornately carved, it glistened brightly; recently polished by one of our many house-elves. A lidded glass jar containing a dull, gray-green powder stood on the mantle, well out of reach of my younger siblings and starkly contrasting with the light and cleanliness of the fireplace. Beside it sat a family picture from my first year at Hogwarts. The forever blooming rose that Neville had given me Christmas the year before sat as the center piece of the arrangement on the mantle.

Harry hoisted his trunk onto the ash covered floor of the fireplace. Hedwig's cage he placed on top. The boy with disheveled black haired hugged my mother and father and waited for Briar and Hazel to come down. My brother was attending his first year at Hogwarts this year, so he was coming with me, but Hazel still had a year to wait.

"We'll miss you, Harry. " My father hugged Harry.

"I'll miss you too Mr. Hawthorn. Thank you for letting me stay here."

"It was a pleasure to have you with us." My father answered.

Harry laughed under his breath and straightened his glasses.

"We'll see you at Christmas." My mother promised. Harry hugged her tightly. She smoothed Harry's disheveled black hair. She had given him a haircut while he stayed with us, at his request. His black mane was now a good deal shorter, but still perpetually messy. "Now, you five better be going." My mother pulled the Floo Powder off of the mantle.

"Wait!" We all turned as my little sister Hazel, trunk in toe, ran down the stairs and into Harry, dropping her luggage only so that it wouldn't slam into him. Nevertheless, he grunted as the ten year old collided with him. "Goodbye, Harry." she spoke softly and hugged my friend. He tousled her long red hair.

"Goodbye Hazel."

My sisters Olivia and Violet - they were identical twins except Livy had red hair and Violet had blonde - came down next and said their goodbyes to Harry before shooting back up stairs. They hadn't grown as close to Harry as Hazel had.

Briar came into the room with his trunks while Hazel said her goodbyes andfist-bumped Harry. He was so much like Harry, but then again, Harry was the first real role model aside from my father that he'd had. Even if we were on good terms with the Weasely side of the family, - we weren't mind you, at least as far as my mother was concerned - we didn't think that they were the best role models for Briar. Luckily, or perhaps unluckily for my housemate, my brother idolized Harry, so he tried to be emulate him when he came for the summer. "See you soon, little buddy." Harry said playfully.

"Bye."

Harry turned back to my mother, who lifted the lid off of the Floo Powder. He grabbed a handful of the green powder, stepped into the fireplace, rested his hand on Hedwig's cage and shouted clearly, "Number 4, Privet Drive." Bright green fire swirled around Harry after he threw the powder on the floor. When the flames disappeared, Harry was gone.

Briar jumped back in surprise, his eyes as big as saucers. I rolled my eyes. This happened every single time that my brother saw the Floo Network in action as a bystander. He had used the Floo Network many times before, but he was still too scared to try it solo.

I hoisted our trunks into the fireplace. The inside of the fireplace was much larger than it appeared and all four trunks: Hazel's trunk; mine; and Briar's two; plus Harper's cage and my brother's owl's cage, easily fit into the space with room left over for the humans.

I stepped into the fireplace. Harper took her spot and sat patiently by my leg, knowing exactly what was going on. Like myself, she'd grown accustomed to the workings of the Floo Network. I held my hands out for my brother and sister. They took them hesitantly and took the empty spaces beside me in the fireplace. I'd drastically misjudged the amount of space and with all of us in the fireplace it was uncomfortably cramped. To make matters worse as far as space was concerned, Father stepped in with us. However, without him, there was no way that we would end up in the Order's Headquarters. I was not yet old enough to be a Secret Keeper, and certainly not an Order Member.

"See you soon, Mum." Briar said.

Mum held out the jar of Floo Powder. Dad took a handful. "Hold on tight." I whispered to my young siblings. They clasped my hands firmly.

Dad exclaimed, "Number 12, Grimmauld Place." The instant before he threw the green powder to the floor my youngest sister hastily grabbed his robe and I felt Harper dig her claws into my leg - man that cat was smart. I saw my mother and sisters waving goodbye, then I closed my eyes. Traveling by Floo was disorienting at best.

I felt Briar's hand slip from mine as he slid onto the floor of the small Gothic drawing room. Luckily I was still standing and holding onto my sister's hand. I let go of it and stepped out of the fireplace, helping my brother up off the floor.

Ginny was sitting on a sofa with a book, but looked up when the fireplace roared to life with our arrival. I rushed over to my favorite cousin and hugged her tightly. "Oh, I've missed you Ginny."

"I've missed you too Rosie." She answered, hugging me back. I'd missed my cousin so much over the summer but we rarely saw each other outside of school since our mothers had not reconciled and probably never would.

We broke the embrace and I looked at my clothes after realizing that there were suddenly black smudges on her shirt that hadn't been there a minute ago. "Oh I'm so sorry Ginny, I didn't mean to get soot all over you." I said hurriedly, embarrassment flooding my cheeks with scarlet. She just grinned and helped brush the remaining soot from my clothes. Hopefully we could convince Aunt Molly to use a cleaning spell on our black-spotted outfits.

A set of hurried footsteps resounded through the ancient house and my Aunt Molly, her curly red hair flying about and an apron around her generous waist, strode into the room. She was just the sort of woman who would have a plate of cookies in her hands when ever someone came to visit.

"Hawthorn." She greeted cooly. He nodded in reply as he dusted himself off before walking into the current meeting. My aunt turned her attention back to me and my brother. "Rose, how wonderful to see you dear, and you too Briar. Why, Hazel, how tall your grown." She greeted. "Fred, George, come help your cousins with their trunks!" she called, her voice still warm but commanding. A door slammed and four pairs of footsteps echoed on the stairs as I dusted the rest of the ashes off of myself and Briar.

Hermione, her bushy brown hair tamed with a headband, ran up to me and hugged me tightly. "Rose! I've missed you."

I returned the hug. "I missed you too, Hermione." My twin cousins finally strutted into the room and took the trunks, levitating them upstairs. Since they were seventeen, they were no longer bound by the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction on Underage Magic, and appeared to be reveling in it.

Harper had since left us, sauntering out of the fireplace as soon as we arrived, most likely sensing Crookshanks.

My attention was turned back to Aunt Molly. "When is my sister coming?" she asked, pursing her lips after she looked me over.

"Mum will be coming in a few days. She has to get school supplies for Olivia and Violet still." I explained. My aunt looked satisfied and turned her attention to my little brother.

My mother and my Aunt hadn't gotten along well after Aunt Molly married Uncle Arthur and my mother had married my father, a man from a wealthy, respectable Pure-Blood family with a long standing friendship with the Malfoys.

My mother didn't believe that her sister had made a good choice since Aunt Molly married into a family that wasn't nearly as wealthy or had as clean a reputation as she thought her older sister deserved. When my mother married my father some years later she believed that she had made a very good match, one living up to the standards that she'd set for herself which she felt her sister had failed to do with her own. My mother and my aunt rarely spoke now, and only tolerated each others company when someone died or when the Order needed them.

My aunt Molly did ironically have a good relationship with me and my cousins; something that ate at Mama.

I found Fred and George's senseless pranks to be rather tiring, and the fact that they were now seventeen and could use magic legally meant that they apparated nearly everywhere, literally! Ron, on the other hand a crucial part of our quartet, often rubbed me the wrong way with his antics and I found him obnoxious at times, but he was a true friend regardless and the one I connected with best besides Ginny.

Ginny was another little sister to me, but the relatives that I really connected with were the older Weaselys: Bill; Charlie; and to a lesser extent, Percy. Of all the Weasely children, Bill possessed the most level head. Bill was my favorite, now working in Gringotts. Ever since Charlie left for Romania our correspondence had trickled down to nothing, and I missed talking with him about dragons and other mythical creatures like Phoenixes. Percy, the bossiest of the three, sadly, took a job as assistant to the Minister after graduation and drastically changed. I didn't like it.

Brair's stomach growled, and he blushed. "There's baked ham in the kitchen if you're hungry dear." My aunt said warmly. Briar instantly bolted to the kitchen. I laughed and followed Aunt Molly into the main part of the house.

I passed by an aging house elf, the one that had been serving the black family since its founding. "Hello Kreacher, good to see you." I fiddled in my pocket for the small brown paper wrapped parcel. "This is for you."

He took it and gingerly opened it with his long, gnarled fingers. Inside were three fresh Ginger Snaps, Kreacher's favorite. He bowed respectfully. "Thank you, Milady. You are the kindest to me of the Noble House of Black. It's always good to see one who is kind to Kreacher." He often spoke about himself in the third person, but that seemed to be his usual way, so I eventually got used to it.

"You're welcome Kreacher. I baked them fresh this morning." I added.

He nodded and walked away to hide his treats.

I walked down the hall into the dining room. The long kitchen table was surrounded by several witches and wizards, and more stood by the wall. The familiar forms of Professor Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape sat at the table, along with some that I didn't know so well.

An African man in deep blue embroidered robes sat talking with the master of the house. Kingsley Shacklebolt was the Minister of Magic's personal assistant and body guard. He by far had the most power at the Ministry of members of the Order. As far as I knew, no one knew of his affiliation with The Order of The Phoenix, and few were aware that it even existed, or where its headquarters was.

This house, which served as the Headquarters of The Order of The Phoenix, was hidden by the Filedius charm, making it invisible to wizards unless they knew the way inside, and were therefore Secret Keepers, and made it utterly invisible to muggles, whether they stumbled upon it or not.

Since my parents were among the original members of the Order, and I had been recruited after it was reactivated, I became a Secret Keeper and gained access to the house, whether from the outside or the Floo Network. Since Briar was still too young to be an Order member, if he hadn't been holding onto my hand the entire time we were traveling here, who knew where he might have ended up. At best, he wouldn't have even left our house; at worst, he would have been floating through the limbo of the Floo Network forever. As with Apparation, using the Floo Network had its dangers.

"Miss Rose, I see that you arrived safely." The man with long black hair greeted. He was Sirius Black, the last member of the Black family who still had the name, master of this house, and Harry's Godfather.

"Yes. My father will arrive in a few days." I stated.

My Aunt Molly entered the room with my uncle, Arthur Weasely; in tow. "Alright, we're ready. All of the children out, out." She shewed me and my brother from the room and Harper escaped to the second floor, untrampled and unnoticed.

Relenting, I turned and strode up the stairs, stopping at the room that had the names Ginny Weasely, Hermione Granger, and Rose Braddock spelled on it. I opened the aging door. My cousin and Hermione had already moved in it seemed, and the only bed that looked unowned was the one by the window. I also had a feeling it was mine because the trunks baring the initials R. O. B. sat haphazardly on it. I rolled my eyes. My cousins must have wanted to get back to whatever pranks they were thinking up.

I straightened the trunk and opened it, unpacking many of my things in the short dresser at the end of the bed. We were going to be staying here for a month or so until school started. With the threat of the Dark Lord, and the fact that he might still hold something against us, my parents thought it prudent to send us to the headquarters of the Order. Besides Hogwarts, it was the currently safest place for us in Britain.

After I unpacked and got myself settled, I placed Harper's small sheepskin cat bed in front of the dusty window. Even though the light filtered through unevenly, it was enough for my cat to sun herself and she liked to keep watch on things. I opened the curtain slightly and peered out the window. A pleasant looking park sat across from the house. I wondered if I could convince my parents to let me go there while we visited.

The days passed by quickly. I spent most of my time in the kitchen, cooking for the Order so that my parents and aunt could participate in the meetings, or practicing on the piano in the foyer, or painting with a travel set I got for Christmas one year. My parents felt it extremely important that I be well versed in all of the refined arts becoming of a lady of my rank in the world of wizards, eventhough I was by no means the world's best dancer.

* * *

Two weeks after my siblings and I arrived, I was sitting at the dining room table eating breakfast and I heard my father come in the front door, more than likely he has just brought in the Daily Prophet.

Three seconds later, I heard his coffee cup crash to the floor.

Fast as lightning I sprung up to see what had happened. By the time I saw my father, I found that many of the rest of the Order, although, mostly the kids, had gotten up to see what all the commotion was about. That house echoed like you wouldn't believe.

Mum, still in her bath robe with a cup of coffee in her hands, asked shakily. "What is it, Hawthorn?!"

My father looked up at Mum and passed the newspaper of to her. "Harry's been expelled."


	3. What happened to us, Draco?

Rose POV

Kings Cross was immensely crowded with people pushing all manner of carts and trunks. Professor Moody , Tonks, Professor Lupin, my parents, and Padfoot, which is what Sirius was called when he shape shifted into a black dog; escorted my cousins, Harry, Hermione, my brother, my sisters, and myself to the train. I wondered why, since we were in Muggle London, people didn't stare at our main escort's self-moving eye, but I assumed that he had glamoured it for the Muggles and that I could see past it because I was magical.

The Order had thankfully resolved the issue of Harry's expulsion.

Professor Moody walked stiffly with his hawk headed staff, grunting angrily when the shaggy black dog wove his way past us. "Padfoot, are you barking mad?! You'll blow the entire operation." The large hound trotted down the stairs and shape shifted back into a man when he found an empty waiting room. Harry ducked in after him.

"Let them be, Rose." My father ordered when I attempted to poke my head into the room. "We have to get you all settled." He pulled me away and sent me with Briar through the wall between platforms 9 and 10. My brother marveled at the steam locomotive that closely resembled the model he had at home when we appeared at the other side.

"Blimey." He said before father whisked him away to get his trunks in order and find him an empty seat in the First-Years train car.

I turned the other way with my sisters and gave my luggage to one of the waiting train attendants. He took my trunk and Harper's crate, setting them gingerly in a baggage compartment. The train was just beginning to fill with students when I shuffled into it and searched out an empty compartment, which wasn't very hard. Olivia and Violet went into another car to two down some of their second-year friends.

As I opened the door to an empty compartment, a short girl with long pale blond hair and dangling earrings shaped like radishes bumped into me. She had her nose stuck into an upside-down issue of the Quibbler. "Luna." I greeted cheerfully.

She slowly looked up from her magazine. Her eyes were as pale as her hair. "Hello Rose."

"How have you been?"

"Very well. Nargels have been a bit of a problem this summer."

"Nargels?" I asked, bewildered. I knew though that we have time to talk at school, and that my first priority should be to find me and my friends a compartment. "We'll talk later. See you at school, Luna."

After she walked away, I found an empty compartment and sat on one of the soft, padded benches, waiting patiently for my friends.

Before any of my group of friends joined me in the car, I stared out the window and watched the magical people stride up and down the platform as they sent their children off for another year at Hogwarts. I could tell that they didn't believe in anything that Harry spoke of when he mentioned the Dark Lord: they coldly disregarded Harry when he passed them on the way to the train. We had the Daily Prophet and our Minister of Magic to blame for that. I hoped that my friends and I wouldn't not snubbed at school since we openly supported Harry, and I had seen enough the last year to know that the monster who had cost my family so much was indeed back.

Someone crossed in front of the the door's frosted window and I recognized the short, fair hair and the black suit as Draco. I stood up and unlocked the door, opening it swiftly and poking my head out in hopes that I could catch him. "Draco."

He momentarily glanced behind him, barely even acknowledged that he heard me, and made no motion to return the way he came, instead flinging his black briefcase into a compartment a few rows down and disappearing after it. I stared blankly after him. Even though we had drifted apart after we were sorted at Hogwarts, he was still always civil to me, at the very least acknowledging that he had seen or heard me. From my memories of us as kids, it was so unlike him to act _that_ coldly, to anyone really. He did often act that way to Harry, they still were not on the best terms; but he'd never snubbed me to that extent.

I sat back down and shut the door dejectedly. Outside, the corridors quickly filled up with students running back and forth, trying to find an empty car. I sulked and looked out the window until I heard the door open and my group filed into the car. Putting up a cheerful façade, I grinned widely at them while they sat down and settled themselves for the long ride to the boarding school.

Harry stared out the window and fell asleep on the trip to Hogwarts. We didn't bother him, instead Hermione and I read the Daily Prophet and Persuasion out loud while Ron occupied himself with some of the jokes his brothers dreamt up.

The sky was a star studded void when the Hogwarts Express finally pulled into the station. We were some of the last off the train, and Harry wasn't paying much attention to where he was going, doubtlessly mulling over his Hearing and his near expulsion from Hogwarts. Harry stumbled off of the platform and nearly fell onto the tracks, but he caught himself just in time.

Behind us, we heard a few students talking amongst themselves, including a voice that I would have recognized anywhere. Draco and his housemates passed us. "Enjoy your freedom while you can, Potter. I bet there's a cell in Azkaban with your name on it." The blond jeered. Harry instantly took offense, and would have confronted his enemy had Ron not restrained him. "Can you believe them? Nutters every single one." He looked pointedly at me.

As Harry struggled against Ron's hold and yelled angrily, "Just stay away from me!" I was reeling from the insult.

"He... He called me crazy." I breathed in disbelief. Draco, my former best friend, the one whom I used to always go to when I was in trouble or upset, the one whom I'd sworn to bring over to our side; had insulted me._  
_

"What's wrong, Rose?" Hermione asked, seeming to have heard me.

"Oh. Nothing." I lied, dismissing her. We strode down the platform and snagged the last carriage to the castle. The gaunt, black beast pulling it huffed and I petted its muzzle. It looked like an emaciated flying horse, but I knew that it was perfectly healthy.

I never noticed that Neville had joined us. "What is it?" Harry asked, turning after watching Cho ride away. I knew that Ginny would have been jealous had she seen: she'd been massively crushing on Harry for years.

"What are you talking about Harry, there's nothing there." Hermione answered automatically. She peered at me queerly when she saw me petting the creature.

"It's called a Thestral." I answered Harry as I hoisted myself into the carriage, which happened to be occupied by Luna who was still reading her Quibbler. I sat next to the pale haired girl.

"You three just haven't seen enough to be able to see them." Luna informed them slowly as they followed me and sat.

I instantly burst into introductions. "This is Luna Lovegood. Her father is the Editor of the Quibbler."

"Hello." Everyone chimed.

Hermione looked a bit uncomfortable around the strange girl.

"Don't worry, I won't bite." Luna assured, looking up from her book and sliding it between us.

"That is an interesting necklace." Hermione observed, gesturing to the pendant that graced Luna's neck and trying to strike up a cautious conversation.

Luna glanced down at her necklace, obviously flattered, not realizing how uneasy my best friend was. "It's a charm actually. It keeps away the Nargels." She leaned forward, which caused Hermione to lean back reflexively.

The carriage lurched forward and Neville kept a hold of the tall, cactus-like plant in his hands. The bushy haired brunet was assaulted with a question from Ron, one which, for once, she possessed no good answer.


	4. Ministry Interference

**6/26/14**

**Hey!**

**It was close, but I was able to get this up today like I promised, yay! I will have at least one chapter up a week, and more if possible. I am having a lot of fun writing Rose, and lending her my disdain of Delores Umbridge, even though she is my favorite Harry Potter villain.**

**The next chapter will be Rose's POV, but chapter 6 will be Draco's POV, as promised to a reviewer. I am open to suggestions from reviewers or PMs. I have several ideas but love fresh imaginations too, and besides, reviews make me happy. ;) **

**I will have the next update up no later than July 3, and I might put one up a day early the next week as a birthday present from me to all of us since I turn 18 next Wednesday.**

**Thank you everyone who reads my work. I love you, and promise to have a fic up soon for all of us ONCErs out there. (My favorite show and one I've wanted to work with for a wwwwwhhhhhiiiiillllleeeeee...) Captain Swan all the way. My mom is SwanFire. sigh.  
**

**TTYL**

**Sophie.**

**P.S. **

**Due to some family trouble I will not be able to get the next chapter up by Thursday, but it, and hopefully the next one too, will be up by the 9th.**

Rose POV

The Great Hall was crowded with students both new and returning when I finally made it to my house's table. There was vast empty seat beside Harry that I was seriously considering stealing. The students sitting on the side opposite the void were squished, obviously trying to avoid Harry.

Harry had his gaze locked on Seamus Finnigan, who was on the edge of the gap and glaring at him from time to time. I slid between them, breaking the staring contest and shielding Harry from Finnigan's disdain. I knew that he was one of the people who didn't believe us. His mother worked at the Ministry, and they had been fed the lies spouting from the establishment.

"Hey, are you okay?" I asked Harry, laying my hand on his arm, concern lacing my voice.

"There isn't much you can do for me, Rose." He snapped, turning his attention back to his food. I was taken aback. It was rare for him to snap at people, except Draco; and I had never heard him do it to any of us.

I had filled my plate and started enjoying the feast when our Headmaster took his annual place at the wax covered, owl shaped podium. All of the students, myself included and Harry somewhat reluctantly, turned our attention to the gray haired, wizened old man as the room quickly went silent.

"Good evening, children. Now, we have two changes in staffing this year. We're pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who'll be taking Care of Magical Creatures while Professor Hagrid is on temporary leave." Many students, especially those from Hufflepuff and my house audibly displayed their disappointment.

I habitually scanned the Teacher's Table. Hagrid's massive seat was empty, a new seat placed next to it was taken up by a slight witch with ratty brown hair in a bun under her weather beaten mottled brown hat. Professor McGonagall sat in her usual place between Hagrid's chair and Professor Snape. A smile graced her face as she watched the headmaster. Our black haired Potions Professor stared pointedly at me. I looked away from him to the woman sitting in the Defense Against the Dark Art's Teacher's dark chair.

The plump woman looked out of place and, quite honestly, outrageous. Dressed in a furry, bubblegum pink get up with a rosy crocheted monstrosity of a hat, she looked rather like Pigmy-puff, a small furry animal that Fred and George had started breeding over the summer which happened to often be pink. Her dark hair was strictly curled close to her rectangular face and she held herself as if she were an exceptionally important person and the rest of us were imbeciles who were fortunate to share the room with her. I immediately disliked her.

The headmaster continued. "We also wish to welcome our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Delores Umbridge." At that moment, the woman giggled slightly: a high, bubbly sound. "And I'm sure you'll all join me in wishing the professor good luck. Now, as usual, our caretaker, Mr. Filch, has asked me to remind you..." He was suddenly cut off when Professor Umbridge cleared her throat and lifted a revoltingly pink bag off of the floor by her feet.

The room grew so quiet you could hear a pin drop as everyone sat in shock that the new teacher had so inappropriately broken protocol. One of the principle unspoken rules of the school was that no one - student or staff – ever interrupted the Headmaster when he or she was speaking. That action was considered the pinnacle of disrespect, and her use of it caused me to detest her even more.

As the Headmaster and the rest of the school stared at her in disbelief, the professor rose slowly from her seat, relishing the attention that we were paying her; before sliding out of her seat and sauntering to the edge of the dais. Her bow adorned pink heels thudded annoyingly on the wood as she took the spot in front of the Headmaster's podium that no teacher before her had ever stood.

Harry, recognizing the pink woman, whispered. "She was at my hearing." Hermione and I both turned to look at him. "She works for Fudge."

Professor Umbridge spoke in a high grating voice that set my teeth on edge. It wasn't fair for me to judge the woman before I had even truly met her, but just about everything about her agitated me, and I sensed something off about her. I had a feeling that we hadn't seen most of how she acted yet. "Thank you, headmaster, for those kind words of welcome. And how lovely it is to see all your bright, happy faces smiling up at me." She explained slowly, her voice dripping with condescension as she spoke to us as if we were but mere simpletons. "I'm sure that we're all going to be very good friends."

I rolled my eyes and joined Fred and George as they countered her. "That's likely." Many of the students giggled and Umbridge shot us an aggravating grin reserved for misbehaving toddlers before she began pacing side to side. "The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance. Although each headmaster has brought something new to this historic school, progress for the sake of progress must be discouraged. Let us preserve what must be preserved, perfect what can be perfected, and prune practices that ought to be prohibited." She whispered the ending of her extremely dull speech and strode back to her seat at the table.

The Headmaster bade us clap, and half of us did halfheartedly. "Thank you Professor Umbridge. That really was quite illuminating." He drawled, just as bored with it as we were. He continued stating the customary announcements.

"Illuminating? What a load of waffle." Ron said disdainfully, glancing at all of us.

My subsequent eye roll and heavy sigh signaled that I agreed with him.

"What's it mean?" Asked Harry.

Hermione whipped her head in his direction. Her hair would have slapped him had it not been secured by a black barrette."It means the Ministry's interfering at Hogwarts." She returned. Her statement matched my feelings exactly.

Eventually, I couldn't stop myself from glancing over my shoulder toward Draco, who sat at the table behind me. He was staring intently at me. It made me uncomfortable, and he had the strangest look in his eye: one of determination, and something else that I couldn't describe.

Many of the students had already reached the Common Room by the time we were finished. Hermione and Ron gone, Harry and I walked together to the Gryffindor dormitories while trying to deflect the glares and jeers thrown at us. "Ignore them Harry." I ordered, steering him away from a group of Slytherin seventh years who jabbed at us.

"What is their problem?" Harry spat.

I felt that it was wisest not to answer him. He was venting and didn't need a comment from me.

The portrait that guarded our House, normally called by her affectionate nick name "the Fat Lady," but who I knew as Lady Matilda, greeted us before Harry spoke the password. "Be warned, many in there aren't happy about you two."

"Thank you." I answered politely and braced myself as the door opened and we stepped into the cavernous room. Our housemates looked up as Harry and I walked in and we scanned the room wearily, wanting to get to our rooms unharmed.

A radio quietly told us of another made up news story and the volume in the room grew quieter as the boy beside me and I navigated the throngs of students crowding the room. Many held the Daily Prophet, including Seamus who peered at Harry. Dean smiled at us.

"How was your summer?" I asked, staring at the dark skinned boy and attempting to dispel the tension that surrounded us.

"Alright." Dean nodded. "Better than Seamus', anyway."

Seamus threw his paper down on the coffee table and stood up, confronting us. "Me mum didn't want me to come back this year."

"Why not?" Harry inquired calmly beside me. We both knew that the accusations were coming, and they wouldn't just be aimed at Harry.

"Let me see. Uh, because of you two." Seamus taunted. "The _Daily Prophet's _been saying a lot of things you both, Harry, and about Dumbledore as well."

Harry's calm attitude evaporated as he retorted. "What, your mum believes them?"

"Well, no one was there the night Cedric died."

"I guess you should read the _Prophet, _then, like your stupid mother. It will tell you everything you need to know." Harry snapped, stepping forward and voicing his hatred of the paper.

"Harry!" I cried, reflexively grabbing his arm to try and restrain him.

"Don't you dare talk about my mother like that! And you..." the Irish boy turned to me, making the argument personal.

Harry cut him off, stepping in between us. "Don't drag her into this, Seamus. This is between you and me."

"Ooh." Seamus mocked. Harry and I both wore identical masks of confusion. "I see how it is." I gathered what Seamus was implying quicker than the boy defending me did.

"We are not together Seamus. We're just friends." I asserted, moving beside Harry instead of behind him.

Harry, sensing that Seamus was leading him off topic, drew the conversation back on course and said, "I will have a go at anyone who calls us liars!"

Suddenly, Ron came to our aid. "What's going on?"

"He's mad, is what's going on. And his girlfriend is too." Seamus shot at me.

Harry tried to step in front of me again. I stopped him. "I can take care of myself." I whispered. I stood defensively, my hand itching for my wand. That meant I was very angry, but I didn't let anyone see it on my face.

"Do you believe the rubbish he's come out with about You-Know-Who?" Seamus spat.

Ron took the empty place beside Harry, and Hermione suddenly appeared next to me. "We do." Hermione affirmed.

"Does anyone else have a problem with us?" Ron challenged. When no one else assaulted us, we strode up to our respective dormitories.

I collapsed on my bed and held my head in my hands. I wanted to throw something, or better yet, jinx it into oblivion. I ended up shredding my pillow and repairing it immediately, but not before Hermione and Ginny walked into the room and were assaulted by flying feathers. Hermione took the place next to me, causing my bed to creak loudly on account of its new occupant. She wrapped her arm around me and I leaned into her comforting hug. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." I lied. They didn't buy it.

"I'm sure you are. The pillow just exploded on its own, right?" Ginny challenged. I was tempted to bite my lip before she sat down next to me.

"If you want to talk..." Hermione offered.

"What is there to talk about?" I fumed, shooting up from my seat. I composed myself after seeing their shocked expressions. "I'm fine, really. I'm just... tired." I said, containing my anger and annoyance as much as I could.

"Ok." Hermione answered, getting off of my bed and giving me space. I counted - one, two, three, one, two, three – over and over again to calm myself down.

My mother had always told me to contain my emotions, risking letting my gift slip if I didn't. If I didn't show that I had it, how could it be used against me or people I loved?

The calm one, I was always the mediator; the eye of the storm, so to speak. Sometimes it was real, but normally it was a well built facade: a nearly impenetrable and carefully constructed mask that I wore whenever I was in the middle of a confrontation, knowing the consequences if I didn't.

Seamus had come close to destroying my facade earlier, and I had wanted so much to take out my wand and do who-knows-what to him. If I had, my gift probably would have worked of its own accord, and healed him, along with anyone else in the room who had so much as a pimple. That instance was one of the many times my iron grip on my emotions had been tested. I had never lost it, but I knew that that could change at any time. I had to keep it together for everyone's safety, as well as mine. I sensed that the new teacher would considerably test me, and would be a problem, but I had to handle it and keep my powers a secret.

My sleep was light and troubled, the things I was mulling over keeping me half-awake the entire night, and I woke up tired and achy. It was exactly how I needed to be on my first day with a new teacher.

My roommates were all still asleep, the first shades of dawn barely appearing through the arched window. I felt safe enough to exercise the tiniest tangible bit of my powers. I slightly loosened control of it, and violet sparks seeped out of my fingers, slowly crawling across my skin and banishing the aches, pains, and lack of sleep from my body.

Satisfied that I was well and my roommates were none the wiser, I got dressed and quietly sneaked downstairs, instantly penning a letter to my mother and told her everything that had transpired since I had arrived at Hogwarts.

I found myself sitting with Hermione to the front of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. One of the Patil twins folded a small paper airplane, the other enchanted it, transforming it into a bird; and sent it soaring across the room. Many of the students attempted to hit or catch the toy, until it suddenly caught fire and drifted down to Pavati's desk, red and smoldering.

We all looked behind us, disappointed and annoyed that our fun had been unceremoniously quashed. The nauseating witch, dressed in an unflattering mermaid style dress in a drab shade of orange and still wearing that deplorable pink wool sweater, stood by the outside door, a smug expression contorting her rectangular face.

"Good morning, children." She said sweetly, in no way trying to hide the contempt and condescension from her voice. She walked down one of the aisles, flicking her particularly short wand to and fro as words spelled on the board. Many of the students gaped at her disconcertingly. "Ordinary Wizarding Level examinations. O-W-Ls. More commonly known as OWLs." She _carefully _emphasized the word "Ordinary." "Study hard and you will be rewarded. Fail to do so, and the consequences may be severe." She giggled again, and I felt bile rise in my throat.

She flicked her wand and a few enormous stacks of brand new books floated toward us. One of the books plopped in front of me and I glanced at the childish cover. _Dark Arts Defense, Basics for Beginners_ stared back at me. Hermione, always the bookish one, instantly flipped through the volume while I pushed mine disdainfully away. "Your previous instruction in this subject has been disturbingly uneven. But you'll be pleased to know, from now on you will be following a carefully structured, Ministry-approved course of defensive magic. Yes?"

Hermione had her hand raised, a bewildered look on her face. I began to grudgingly flip through my book. "There's nothing in here about using defensive spells?"

"Using spells?" Umbridge laughed. "Ha-ha! Well, I can't imagine why you would need to use spells in my classroom."

"You aren't going to let us use magic?" I asked, astonished. Even a brain-washed Ministry woman as detestable as this couldn't possibly deny us the use of the very thing we were here to learn.

"You will be learning about defensive spells in the secure, risk-free way." The professor explained.

"What use is that?" Harry challenged. "If we're attacked, it won't be risk-free."

"Students will raise their hands when they speak in my class!" She ordered, silencing Harry.

"It is the view of the Ministry that a theoretical knowledge of defensive magic would be sufficient to get you through your examinations, which, after all, is what school is all about."

"But how is _theory_ going to prepare us for what's out there?" Harry retorted.

"There is nothing out there dear. Who do you imagine would want to harm children like yourselves, hm?"

"We won't always be children." I snapped. The teacher sent me a warning glare, but I didn't care.

Harry continued. "Oh I don't know. Maybe Lord Voldemort."

The room quieted and Umbridge stopped, obviously terrified. "Now, let me make this quite plain. You have been told that a certain Dark Wizard is at large once again. This is a lie." She explained very slowly, at the end standing by Harry.

"It's not a lie. I saw him. I fought him." Harry exploded.

"Detention, Mr. Potter!" she answered turning away from Harry and nearing me. I took my chance.

"Then you believe Cedric Diggory died for no reason?"

The professor turned, not expecting to be attacked from two sides. "Cedric Diggory's death was but a tragic accident."

"It was murder!" I shouted.

"Voldemort killed him. You must know this!" Harry finished.

"Enough!" Umbridge screeched. I was almost completely sure that I had bought myself detention, but I wouldn't allow her to attack Harry without a defense on his side.

"Mr. Potter, Ms. Braddock, seven thirty, my office." she giggled.


	5. Cat Lady's torture

**Updated.**

Rose POV

Chapter 5

I tried not to glare at the smug and vicious students who eyed me on the way to detention. They were among the ones who didn't believe a word of what my friend and I were maintaining, and even a few of them had the very old world mentality that females should be seen and not heard, and were disgusted that I had voiced my opinions. I shied away from them by taking a side corridor that would still get me to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom in time. Besides, Harry and I had decided to meet up there.

Harry was waiting in the corridor for me, and resumed his trek to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom when I caught up with him. We walked together into Umbridge's office.

Mews filled the fluffy, shockingly pink room that had been where I had healed and protected Harry from Barty Croutch Jr. who had been masquerading as my godfather the year before. The extreme overhaul of the office made me want to run to the girls' lavatory and vomit. I kept the disdain off of my face as Umbridge greeted us _cheerfully._

"Hello Mr. Potter, Ms. Braddock." She stood up, dragging Harry and I to two desks she had situated in front of hers. "Today I want for you both to write some lines for me." This woman had something especially nasty in store for us if her punishment seemed as mundane as copy work. We sat, and dug our quills out of our bags. She stopped us by waving her hand and making our quills vanish from our grasps. "Not with your quills you foolish children." she reprimanded us. I gritted my teeth. "You will be using some very special ones of mine." She handed us each a flamboyant black quill. My instincts told me that there was nothing normal about our loaned writing instruments.

I turned my quill over in my hand. It didn't look out of the ordinary, but I cautiously stalled as long as I could, dreading discovering what nasty surprises the quill had yet to reveal. Umbridge noticed Harry doing the same. "You may start."

"What do you want us to write?" asked the boy beside me tiredly.

"I want you to write '_I must not tell lies_.'" she whispered close to our ears, bending down. The horrendous stench of way too much rose scented perfume wafted toward me and I gagged. Harry wrinkled his nose. Was there anything about this obnoxious woman to like?

"How many times?" Harry sighed, glancing at the woman and twirling his pen in his fingers.

"How about... as many as it takes for the message to sink in?" She replied cruelly, striding back over to her desk and plopping down on the overly plush chair. She gingerly picked up the cooling cup of tea that was waiting patiently for her and sipped its contents, sighing contentedly.

I looked away from her and turned my attention toward the paper laying on my desk and habitually dipped my pen in the ink well. The nib stabbed into the desk where the ink well should have been, but wasn't. I momentarily scanned the table top and came up empty handed. _What the heck does she expect us to write with; our own blood? _I though, aggravated. I looked up at the woman who adjusted various papers on her desk, her discarded teacup resting perfectly in its saucer on its immaculate tea tray. "You didn't give us any ink." I pointed out stubbornly.

She looked up at us innocently. "Oh, you won't need any ink." I saw the smallest smile flash across her face before it shifted back to the expressionless mask it always was and gestured for me to start before going back to her paperwork. I eyed her suspiciously and began to write.

As I spitefully scratched the words, I realized that they were not written in the standard black school ink, but in bright crimson. _No._ I thought, astonished. As soon as my left hand began to burn I knew what our punishment was. She was forcing us to write with a Blood Quill, a torture device that had been banned from use years before. How she had gotten a hold of them I had no idea, but she should have been thrown in Azkaban for her use of them. The Ministry had probably turned a blind eye to her methods.

As the words _I must not tell lies _etched themselves into my hand and Harry's, evidenced by our identical actions of cringing and rubbing our left hands; my gift tried to free itself from my control, fueled by the simultaneous hate I felt for Hogwarts' newest teacher and the sisterly love I had for the black haired boy who treated me like his. I struggled to contain it.

I continued to write, allowing the words to slice into the back of my hand as I battled with the healing gift that was at the same time a terrible curse. The teacher noticed my struggle and smirked, thinking that her quill was giving me more torment than she had anticipated. In a way it was; keeping me engaged in a tug of war between my unique magic and my feeble control over it that could have catastrophic consequences if I lost.

Harry cringed and I struggled as the words ceased to cut into our hands, the sentence neatly spelled out. The cat lady in pink came back over to us and stood between Harry and I, condescension practically dripping from her, as I tried to keep my painful internal war off of my face. "Is something wrong, dear?" she asked Harry sweetly, ignoring me; satisfied by whatever agony her torture tool was inflicting.

Harry shook his head and hid his injured hand under his robes. "No." He replied, the woman next to him terrifying him, but he attempted to hide it.

"That's right. Because you know, deep down, you both deserve to be punished." She answered quietly.

As the poisonous words fell from her too thin lips, I lost the battle and inwardly reeled from the pain as my magic snapped; dark magic mixing with light, injury with healing. Harry cried out when his hand started to burn again as mine did, and the bloody lines on our hands healed, but the dark half of the magic, fueled by Umbridge's torture, marring our hands with angry red marks sitting right where the slashes from the Blood Quills had been, and still spelling out what was written on our papers.

Umbridge, meanwhile, cried out and I saw out of the corner of my eye as she rotated her left hand back and forth that the words _I will not torture children _were slicing themselves into the soft flesh on the back of her small, pudgy hand in a manner resembling what now disfigured ours.

Shaken, she stood. I struggled to stay up in my chair, my uncontrolled magical outburst draining me of strength in return for its use. This very unique gift I controlled – in reality, hid – always came with this price which was why I _rarely _used it. I was probably also paying the price for the minuscule part of the gift I'd used that morning. Umbridge said fearfully, "You are dismissed," opening the door and all but shewing us out.

Harry led me out of the room to safety. I couldn't even begin to speculate what explanations Ministry Woman was thinking up for what had happened the minute before. My housemate helped me down the stairs and he stopped once we found a bench and we were able to sit down. Harry rubbed the marks that _I _had caused and stood up a second later. "What happened back there?" Harry demanded.

"I don't know what you're talking about." I lied, peering at him expressionlessly.

"Don't lie to me Rose." He snapped. "I saw how you reacted back there. You know something about what caused _this," _Harry grasped my hand, laying it next to his and I yelped, "And the marks on Umbridge." I blinked. Harry had noticed them too. It appeared that I had a lot of explaining to do.

"Harry." I tried, another fib on my tongue.

He huffed and stared sternly at me. "No, tell me the truth."

I sighed, finally resolving to give my secret to the young man who was replacing Draco as my best friend. "You must promise not to tell anyone, Harry. You have no idea how dangerous it could be if the Death Eaters knew." He nodded, waiting. I took a deep breath and continued. "I was born with a gift, separate from my normal magic, that can do things like that. It is set off by my emotions and I can't control it." I admitted ruefully, looking at my hands resting in my lap. "You saw why I have to keep it hidden."

"Why didn't you tell me, or any of us, before? We could have helped you." Harry assured me. I sighed and smiled. Harry was always trying to protect the people he cared about, but he could also be rash and foolish, and this gift was more powerful than he realized.

"What could you have done, Harry? I already shut down the emotions that set it off as much as I can, and no one that I know has it or can teach me to control it. And... I don't any of you to get hurt because of me."

"Get hurt?" he exclaimed indignantly. I'd momentarily forgotten that he was the type to run head long into the fire.

"Not only does my gift drain me when I use it, Harry, but it can also harm people if I'm not careful. You saw what happened to Professor Umbridge. It would kill me if it was used against any of you." I kept my voice level, and put up the calm facade I wore almost every day of my life, but inside I was panicking, trying to still the emotions that roiled and threatened to ignite another wave of my unpredictable magic.

"Which is why you were weak coming out of Umbridge's office." Harry deduced. I nodded calmly.

"I know you want to help me Harry, and I appreciate it. I really do. But this is something that I have to deal with on my own." I explained, keeping the brimming tears locked inside before standing up and walking away from him. He grabbed my hand, forcing me to halt and look at him.

"You will have to tell them some time." he indicated forcefully.

"No, I won't." I answered stubbornly and walked down the hall to Gryfindor Tower, leaving Harry standing outside the classroom, completely aghast that I had a power so dangerous.

I continued on my way, and heard someone call my name when I reached the exact spot where I had met up with Harry the hour before. I turned and peered down the corridor, finally spotting the pale blond hair that belonged to Draco Malfoy. _Oh great. _He was about the last person I wanted to see right now, I was still furious about what had said when we got off the train, but I couldn't let that emotion take hold again.

_Don't let it show, _my inner voice, the same one who tried to persuade me on the train that Draco had moved on, advised. I pushed it down and shut it back in its box. What was the point of keeping it concealed? He already knew. He had known since before Hogwarts, when I lost control of it and healed us both when we fell from a tree.

In spite of it all, I sighed and put up my facade once more. Even though I was angry with him, I didn't want to accidentally murder him. Keeping my emotions inside where they couldn't harm anyone was hard enough at the moment, I didn't need to increase them by snapping at Draco. After all, we had been friends once, long ago, and I still kept those feelings and memories stashed safely in my heart. They were among the many I pulled on when I wanted to use the light side of my gift to heal.

His angular face was contorted by a look of anger and resentment, mixed with the something along the lines of the same emotion that I had seen at the Start of Year Feast. He stalked over to me, looking like he was about to kill somebody.

"What is bothering you, Draco?" I snapped, scowling at him and giving him my enraged emerald green stare.

"You..." He started, the emotions he was displaying transforming his face into one that I didn't know. He seemed to be letting his emotions control him to the point that he couldn't complete sentences.

While trying to speak to me and answer my question, his eyes fell on something that caused his expression to shift into something – although decidedly different – that I hadn't seen in him since we were kids. He pulled up my injured left hand and stared at the lines crisscrossing it. I could see the wheels turning in his head. "You..." His tone changed from one of malice to almost... concern.

"Just spit it out already." I demanded, annoyed and exhausted. I wanted to get into my own bed and sleep off my ordeal and replenish the strength that my gift had stolen from me.

He made eye contact with me, his light gray eyes hinting at so many feelings still too well hidden for me to see that left me confused. Something stopped him from saying anything, and a foreign emotion passed over his face before he just walked away without another word.

_What just happened? _I nearly reprimanded myself for being mad at him in the first place, but he still had a lot to answer for.

When I finally got to the Common Room, I didn't retire right away. Too scared to sleep, I took out a piece of parchment, and, with a quill that _wouldn't _write in my own blood, wrote a very short note to my mother, one that I would send to her at the next possible opportunity. My newly found fear was transferred to my script, causing it to lose its usual elegance and degrade into a shaky, nearly incoherent scrawl.

_I lost control. What do I do?_


	6. Changing Perspective

**Chapter 6 **

**General Point Of View**

Pale haired pure-blood Draco Malfoy, proclaimed the Prince of Slytherin by his housemates, sat in his usual alcove in one of the halls, one that he frequented a good deal his fourth year, and continued into his fifth. It was a good place to think, and keep away from insufferable Gryffindors.

He amended the thought. Not all of the students who wore red and gold were insufferable. There was one girl, Rose Braddock, his only friend before Hogwarts, whom he liked. He still harbored a major crush on her from the year before.

He had acted on that crush after the Yule Ball announcement, asking Rose the first chance he had. She'd accepted, and she wore a deep blue floral dress that was absolutely stunning on her. He'd nearly gotten into a fight that night over her, but it didn't get far; there were too many people. His arch enemy, Blessed Potter; the Chosen One, had taken the Weasely Girl, but Draco knew that Potter had asked Rose first; it would have eaten his heart if she had accepted. After that though, for reasons unknown to either of them, their relationship deteriorated again, except for a short moment the day after Voldemort returned.

He wondered what happened to the very close-nit friendship the pure-bloods once shared, unwilling to admit that it was his fault entirely, instead blaming it on her place in the Golden Quartet, consisting of Potter, Weaselby, the Mudblood, and Rose. He hated seeing her with them, longing to take their place and return things to the way they had been, but he highly doubted that it could happen.

During their first year, he hadn't given her a second glance after they were separated by the Sorting Hat. He had hoped that she would follow him into Slytherin, but when he had taken the time to think about it the next year, he realized that she was anything but a Slytherin. She was far too kind and intelligent, always fair spoken, with hardly a harsh word for anyone. That was one of the things that he liked about her. Even when he was a prick she still seemed to trust and care about him.

The funny thing was that ever since they had arrived at school, she had been avoiding him, even going as far as going down a side corridor to keep from running into him. Why? Why was she suddenly acting as if he was the last person she wanted to see? He didn't think that way about her. One of the reasons that he frequented this particular spot in this corridor was because he could watch her as she went to her near daily healing class with Madame Pomfrey. He had realized that if she caught him he would have to think of something to explain himself, and if he told her the truth that might push her away from him forever. He didn't want that.

He loved everything about her. He loved the way her red hair waved down her back in a waterfall, loved the way that she was kind to everyone even if she was mad at them, even if she had to keep her emotions in check and not show what she was _truly_ feeling. He loved her smile and how she always did better in potions and charms than he did. When it was Granger, he was anything but civil. He especially loved her eyes, a sparkling emerald green that interestingly matched Potter's, but he didn't care: they looked far better on her anyway.

Draco shook his head. "Why can't I get her out of my head?!" he howled, after-wards hoping that nobody had heard him. What would his house mates think? Proud Slytherin Draco Malfoy having Gryffindor's resident Princess on the brain. He would become the laughing stock of the school for sure. He may as well be hanging out with Weaselby.

Potter had been waiting patiently in the corridor for several minutes, waiting for his housemate Draco guessed. It disgusted him that the one girl who put up with him outside of Slytherin house and his nemisis were slowly becoming best friends, a role that he himself had once filled for her. He longed for the days when they would tell each other anything and were inseparable. They drifted apart as soon as they arrived for their first year at Hogwarts but he blamed Potter and the Golden Trio for taking her away from him.

He considered using his powers as a School Prefect to detain or penalize Potter for some obscure reason, but for Rose's sake he decided not to be a total git.

Footsteps that he knew only belonging to her echoed through the corridor, and he quietly looked up to see Rose, her hair held in place with a red and gold headband and cascading half-way down her back the way he always liked it, entering the intersection of his hallway and the corridor that led to Madame Pomfrey's class but was also a side way to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. He as well as anyone else in the room at the time had seen her stick up for Potter, and it made him uncomfortable; he'd meant every word when he confronted Potter on the train platform.

She finally made her appearance, and Rose met up with Harry, chatting idly as they made their way to detention. Draco tried not to snarl and draw attention to himself. Whether he liked it or not, Potter was Rose's friend.

Disgusted, he looked away from the pair, resenting Potter even more for growing so close to Rose. He should be there talking with her, not Potter, not the self-absorbed Chosen One who felt that the entire world should bow down in his presence! Rose deserved better than that. Mostly though, he was jealous that Potter was her new best friend, and that he had been thrown to the curb like a broken trinket no longer of value to its owner. Draco stayed in the alcove – wallowing in his jealous misery.

He heard the two again within sixty minutes. This surprised him, since detention was regularly along the lines of a few hours. Something must have happened.

He heard Rose and Potter arguing, and he was able to catch the gist of the conversation. Rose had finally lost control of her power, and paid the price for its use. He was one of the few people who knew about it, and kept it that way as part of a promise to her from when they were little.

Eventually, he heard her light footsteps echo alone through the corridor. He didn't hear Potter.

He knew that she would be in sight in a moment or two, and he wanted her to explain herself. He wanted to know why she was letting Potter take his place in her life. He slipped out of his hiding place and started walking toward the intersection. "Rose." He called bitterly, more so than he would have liked. He hadn't planned to use that tone, but his resentment and jealousy towards Potter was getting the better of him and he struggled to rein it in.

He apparently failed to keep the emotions off of his face, or maybe she was just livid, because the instant she made eye contact with him, staring at him with angry emerald orbs, she snapped, "What is bothering you, Draco?" a scowl on her face. She sounded incredibly annoyed.

The jealousy and resentment that he harbored and the pain he felt because Rose had been avoiding him caused him to lose the ability to articulate sentences. "You..." He started, only to find out that he couldn't finish. He cursed himself as his jumbled brain tried to sort itself out so that he could voice his mind. As he fought an internal war, he looked down.

His mind went blank and all of his anger and negativity left him as he pulled her hand up and examined that cuts that marred the soft, delicate, pale flesh that sheathed her dainty hand. Even though her gift had obviously tried to heal her, he could easily make out the words spelled out by the gashes.

_I must not tell lies _now burned themselves into his mind. _Had Umbridge done this to her? Had the former Slytherin tortured her in other ways? Was this why the girl in front of him was acting the way she was? Was Rose in more danger?_

As these questions bounced around in Draco's head, he tried again to say something. "You..." Again, he couldn't finish; he wasn't used to having all of these foreign emotions in his head, and he was confused besides, but his tone of voice did change as he felt his malice ebb and be replaced with concern and worry for the beautiful girl whose hand he examined.

Rose, too tired to really notice what was going on inside the head of the Slytherin, demanded, "Just spit it out already."

He looked away from her hand and up at her, his cloud gray eyes peering intently into her jewel-toned ones. She was somewhat startled by all of the emotion that lay in his gaze.

Unable to bare the tension between them, Draco dropped her hand and turned away from the green eyed beauty, walking down the hall toward the Slytherin Common-room, but not before an emotion that not even he understood flashed across his face.

He stalked into the Common Room, seething. The green cast of the light gave his skin and hair as sickly color, so that he looked somewhat like a zombie. He should have felt like one, having spent the time before detention in Quidditch practice with Potter, but he was too angry at the new Ministry appointed Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher for hurting Rose and too startled by the emotions he had churning inside him _because _Rose had been hurt to act accordingly.

Blaize Zabinii, a dark haired Italian boy who was kind - for a Slytherin - was lounging on one of the couches reading the latest edition of the Daily Prophet when the blonde walked in. No one else was in the room, and it was probably better that way, because when Blaize looked up and saw Draco's face, he knew that something had happened to his friend that would be best kept from the rest of his gossip-spreading house. Concern shaded his face as he spoke. "What happened to you, Draco?"

Draco looked at the boy peeking over the back of the sofa. Blaize was one of Draco's only two true friends within his house; Crabbe, Goyle, and Bulestrode, whom he rather disliked when he thought about it; were more his cronies than friends, and he never told them anything they didn't need to know for one thing or another, but Blaize and Pansy knew Draco inside and out. They were Draco's confidants.

"Something I have to take care of." Draco answered curtly before striding over to the writing desk and penning a missive to his father. Blaize put down the dog-eared paper and walked over to the fuming wizard, glancing over his shoulder and reading what his friend was writing. Draco was too furious to say anything about it.

"Dear Father,

There is something of vital importance that you must take care of as soon as possible. I discovered today that the detention our new teacher gave to Rose included torture, specifically with a Blood Quill. For Rose's safety, please address the matter.

Sincerely,

Your Son." Blaize read quietly. Draco ignored him and folded the paper into an envelope, sealing it with wax from the green candle that burned brightly beside him. He would send the letter as soon as he could make it to the Owlry.

"I knew that Professor Umbridge was a piece of work, but she... Rose?!" Fumed the dark haired boy. Draco looked over his shoulder at him finally, but no jealousy roiled within him like it had at Harry. Blaize had been the last member of the Pure Quartet, along with Draco, Rose, and Pansy. Blaize treated Rose as a sister, and her kindness seemed to have rubbed off on him before Hogwarts.

Draco was silent as he pulled himself out of the chair and whipped out his wand. "Duel?" asked the blonde. He wasn't threatening Blaize; they practiced their dueling skills together when there was no one else around, and it was a good way to relieve frustration.

"Sure." Answered Blaize, casting a sound-proof shield.

* * *

"What has gotten into you Draco?" asked Millicent as she sat across from him at breakfast the next morning. Draco ignored her and Millicent turned her head to stare at the object of her house-mate's fascination. She smirked and turned back around.

Draco's face fell. He'd been watching Rose too closely, and now Millicent knew about it. If the circumstances had been the least bit different, Draco would have cursed her for even having the notion that he might fancy someone, but, even though Draco's hand still itched for his wand that rested in his pocket, he did not act on it. He continued to ignore her and stare at the red-haired Gryfindor. His fury rose again when he saw her absentmindedly rubbing her sore hand.

He had sent the letter to his father earlier that morning, and he only hoped it would reach him as soon as possible.


	7. Persuasion

**Chapter 7**

The next morning passed almost uneventfully. I sent the letter to my mother as soon I had the opportunity, and I noticed Draco suspiciously watching me during breakfast. I ignored him, my mind spinning still after the exchange we had last night. Ever since we'd arrived at school he'd been acting strangely, not including how insulting he'd been once we got off the train. I'd just been trying my best to avoid him. I didn't like that I had to do that, but the boy I knew then was so different from the boy I knew _now_ that it scared me.

I was hit with a memory from our third year, when he had insulted Buckbeak and our fiasco with the Slytherin ensued.

_Hagrid was showing us how to properly treat a Hippogriff. After Harry successfully greeted Buckbeak, Draco had gained a big head and strode fearlessly up to the Hippogriff. "Yeah, you're not dangerous at all are you? Great ugly brute." _

_I instantly stepped forward and cried, "Draco, don't!" but it was too late. Buckbeak reared and while Draco raised his arms to defend himself, the hippogriff clawed his arm and fractured the bone. Draco instantly fell to the ground, holding his arm. _

_I ran forward and leapt in front of Draco. Hagrid shouted. "Don't Rose!" _

_Surprising even Hagrid, Buckbeak calmed and I was able to curtsey to him. He bowed, and I petted his lowered head, eventually touching my forehead to his. "Woah." I heard the rest of my class exclaim. Hagrid was frozen in shock at my bravery, or rashness, taken another way. _

_I turned and knelt by Draco after I had calmed Buckbeak and Harry led him away. Draco constantly shouted, "He's killed me, he's killed me!" as he protected his arm. He seemed to be milking the moment for every penny it was worth. _

_Hagrid walked over and stammered, "It's alright. It's just a scratch!" _

_Hermione stepped forward, urgency flooding her voice. "Hagrid! He needs to be taken to the hospital." _

_Hagrid looked toward her and started, "I'm the teacher, I'll do it." He then proceeded to pick up the groaning blonde. _

_I stayed his arm. "Wait," he looked me in the eyes, confused. "please?" He nodded. I stood up and looked over at Draco's face. He still moaned pathetically. _

"_Draco. It's okay. Everything's going to be okay." I said softly, soothing the stupid boy. I pulled out my wand and pointed it at his arm. "Felura." A splint and a cloth sling materialized, immobilizing the arm and preventing any further damage. He continued to moan. "It's alright Draco." I murmured. "Dorme." Soft blue light poured out of my wand and swirled around Draco. His moaning quieted till his head nodded to the side and his eyes closed in peaceful sleep._

"_Tend to Buckbeak, Harry." Hagrid ordered before he carried the injured boy to the hospital wing and I followed while Harry stayed with the class and tended the hypogriff._

What happened to us, Draco? I thought. The only other time I remembered us being so close at school was when he'd asked me to the Yule Ball the year before. That completely threw both Harry and Ron for a loop, and Harry and Draco had nearly gotten into a duel over me. I'd been able to stop it, thankfully; granted, Harry was a good duelist, better than most, but Draco was far better, and had been practicing for many more years than my housemate.

I recalled that Draco's father had first taught Draco how to duel, magic_less _of course, Lucius Malfoy was not about to break the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction for Underaged Sorcery; when Draco was six years old. There were just the hand motions and incantations for various low grade defensive and offensive spells, but they made a difference. I had not allowed to learn such spells at the time.

"Rose, are you alright?" asked Hermione from across the table.

I glanced back at her. She was looking up at me with her usual "I want to know" look that somehow seemed to compel people to open up to her.

"I'm fine." I lied. I was far than fine. From the instant we'd arrived at the school, I'd been insulted – whether he knew or not - by my former best friend; belittled and targeted by my housemates; tortured by a woman whom I couldn't fight against without bringing the wrath of the Ministry, which we were already on thin ice with, onto the school; lost my fragile control over my one-of-a-kind gift at the worst possible moment and in the presence of the worst possible person; and had been involved in a very awkward conversation with my former best friend that left me feeling lost and confused. No, I was far from fine.

I turned my attention back to my book, a complete guide to healing magic that Madame Pomfrey had given me third year before the hippogriff incident when she realized that I had a propensity for healing magic. It was about six inches thick and I was still only in the middle.

My hand flopped lazily on the table, and Hermione grabbed it before I had a chance to react. She turned my hand back and forth in hers and lightly stroked the angry red marks. I winced. "Did Umbridge do this to you?" I pulled my hand back self consciously and didn't answer her, burying my nose back into the massive volume in front of me. Hermione, growing suspicious, snatched up Harry's and he cried out, startled. I looked up and she did the same examination with Harry. "You have to tell Dumbledore." Hermione ordered firmly.

Harry pulled his hand away and we both said in unison. "No."

"But, guys," she protested, trying to be the voice of reason, "He needs to know about what she is doing." She seemed to have deduced that what happened to us was purely because of Umbridge. I was so elated in that moment that she was ignorant of what really happened - and that the other culprit was across from her - that I almost laughed, but I stopped myself before I did and never gave anybody even an inkling of the emotion. My face stayed the somewhat appalled and annoyed mask that it had been at the start of the conversation.

"No, he doesn't. He has enough on his plate right now." Harry stated firmly. I turned my attention back to my book. Hermione's expression grew resigned, but I knew though that she wouldn't let the issue rest for long. She was too stubborn.

Toward the end of breakfast, I had gone to occasionally rubbing my sore hand to ease the sting. I had already tried all of my healing spells on myself and Harry but nothing worked. The pink woman must have further bewitched the quills.

Hermione looked past me and whispered quietly, "Draco is looking at you." I turned, along with the rest of my friends, just in time to see Draco cast his eyes down and strike up a conversation with Crabbe.

"Insufferable git." my cousin sneered, sitting beside me. I elbowed him. "Bloody hell Rose."

"Be nice, Ron."

"But, it's Malfoy!"

"I don't care. You can still be nice." I stated. He looked away from me. I stared at Harry who sat next to Hermione and saw that he was glaring intently at Draco. I opened my mouth to reprimand him like I had my cousin, but I knew it would fall on deaf ears, so I let it go and snapped my mouth shut.

The rest of the day went by just as uneventfully. Come to think of it, so did the rest of that month. Umbridge kept controlling us in her classroom. No talking was allowed, and no spells of any kind were allowed anywhere near her classroom. That didn't stop Fred and George from testing out their new creations: a set of potion laced and enchanted sweets they called Weasely's Wizard Wheezes. They were very popular in our house, and a few of the others. The Slytherin's of course weren't allowed to partake in the goodies, which were rather tasty I might add, even if they gave you boils or fattened your chin later.

Our classes were the same as always, except the fifth years now had extra homework and studying to do in preparation for the O.W.L.s at the end of the year. I was confident that I would get a high score in Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, and Charms, but Transfiguration needed some work. I could probably ask Hermione for help in that area. The other subjects: History of Magic, Care of Magical Creatures, etc... I was steadily working on.

With Umbridge's mass censoring, it was quickly made apparent that it would be impossible for most of my class to pass our O.W.L.s in Defense Against the Dark Arts _without_ an actual teacher. There was one person that I thought of, but I knew that he would be against it.

* * *

"No, Rose!" He protested one night when we were in the Common Room and the rest of our house except my cousin, myself, and Hermione were asleep. "You don't know what you are asking."

"I know very well what I'm asking," I asserted, "We need a real teacher. You have used Defense Against the Dark Arts when it matters:..." I bit my lip, trying to find the best way to word the phrase, "...defending against the Dark Arts."

He raised his eyebrow.

"No, Rose, I won't train the entire Defense Against the Dark Arts class. It's not what any of them think it is. Besides, they'd probably just ask about Cedric."

I sighed. He _had _a good point, but we needed him.

"If you won't teach the class to defend themselves, would you at least teach _us?" _Asked Hermione unexpectedly.

He looked at her pointedly. "Alright." He turned away from us, but my eyes lit up, knowing that the argument had worked. "I'll teach you, but _only_ you." he stared into the flames that danced happily.

"Where can we train?" Asked Ron.

He thought for a minute, then Harry answered, "The Shrieking Shack for now. We can find something else later."

The ginger's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. "The Shrieking Shack? Are you mental?! Have you forgotten the last time we were there? I almost got my leg torn off!" he protested, crossing his arms and staring murderously at Harry on the sofa. Ron was in one of the red and gold armchairs by the fire. Hermione shared the sofa with Harry and read a copy of the Quibbler that I'd given her from Luna. I sat on the floor petting Harper who was curled up in my lap.

I turned my gaze to Ron. "Exactly." His head whipped and he landed his gaze on me, horrified that I agreed with the Harry. "No one will look for us there. We all know that Umbridge and her cronies are too cowardly to go there. And besides," all three turned to me. "We know the secret entrance."

* * *

I received my parents' reply to the letter I'd sent after detention a day later. It was written on a single sheet of ivory dyed paper, my name written on the front of the self envelope, and sealed with the family crest. I opened it in the owlry. Their elegant scripts were surrounded by the scribbles from the rest of the Order.

_Dear Rose,_

_We knew that this would happen sooner or later, but at least it has happened now when you are older. Continue to hide it as well as you can. News from our spies tell us that the ministry at the moment doesn't take kindly to unique gifts, and based on what you told us about your new teacher, we would suspect that if she found out what happened, she would have no trouble snitching to the Ministry. It is imperative that you tell no one who doesn't need to know. _

_We're sorry that this comes so late. The Ministry has continually cracked down on more and more owls since the the World Cup, and the contents of this letter are far too sensitive to fall into their greedy hands. We had to send this through private channels and that takes time. _

_Be strong Rose._

_Sincerely, _

_Your Mother and Father,_

_Emma and Hawthorn Braddock._

Crowded around her serious message were many lighter notes. From my aunt was one saying hi and reminding me to tell Ron to study. Sirius wrote tell me that in about a month he would contact us with some very important information if a hunch was true, but he didn't let on about what the "hunch" was.

I followed their advice to the letter. As long as Harry hadn't betrayed my trust, only he and Draco knew of my gift. I knew that Ron was far too loose lipped to know even though he was my cousin, and Hermione had a reason to know, but she would probably figure it out on her own sooner or later; she had a way of doing that.

Draco I had to worry about. He was the only other one who knew of my gift outside of my immediate family. He was my friend once, so hopefully he wouldn't let it slip, but on the other hand, he was a Slytherin, and based on what he said on the platform, I realized that I had no assurance that my secret was safe with him. If only things had turned out differently.

We trained in the Shrieking Shack three times a week after the end of classes, and quickly mastered whatever Harry taught us. However, both Ron and Hermione became jealous when we realized that I was perfecting the spells markedly faster than they were. In the the span of three weeks I was able to cast most of them non-verbally.

As the Whomping Willow lost its leaves in tandem with the rest of the trees and sweaters became a necessity, I found myself spending a good amount of time with Luna, especially in the Forbidden Forest with the Thestrals. The seclusion was comforting, and the fact that I wasn't the only person who could see the strange creatures was assurance that I wasn't crazy. She was also one of the few who believed our story.

I hoped that since Harry could also see the Thestrals, although he didn't know why, he wouldn't feel so alone, and know that he had people who understood what he was going through. We all lost people we cared about, and, hopefully, knowing that there were others who believed him other than just our little quartet would give him the motivation to rebel the Ministry and fight against You-Know-Who.

I adjusted my red and gold striped scarf as I made my way down the slope that led to Hagrid's hut which had lain empty and abandoned since before school started. No one seemed to have any idea where he was, and I knew that Harry was saddened over that fact. Hagrid was our confidant and friend.

I turned before I reached the round, gray hut and trekked into the depths of the Forbidden Forest. About a two hundred meters in, I found a barefooted Luna stroking the muzzle of one of the dark, winged creatures. "Hello, Rose." She said. I was behind her, and hadn't turned, but she seemed to have eyes in the back of her head.

"Hey," I answered back, taking a large slab of red meat out of my bag; I'd put it under a preservation spell so that it wouldn't smell. I tossed it to one of the Thestrals. The large Pegasus-like animal eagerly snapped up the morsel. I stoked its muzzle and it knelt to allow me onto its back. I climbed on obligingly and it flapped its skeletal wings, flinging us into the air.

For someone who had never flown on the back of a Thestral; most had not since they had to have seen someone die to be able to see them in the first place, it could be compared to riding on a hippogrif or a dragon, but the hide of a Thestral was far smoother, and they shot through the air with effortless ease. Appearing to be flying through the air on an invisible broomstick was just an added bonus.

As my winged steed circled the air over the trees and turned in the direction of the castle, I could see a person on the worn path to the half giant's home. A flash of light shone off of their glasses, momentarily blinding me, and I could see a speck of black atop their head. There was only one black haired, glass-wearing student who I knew would be walking toward Hagrid's.

I smiled, and bade the Thestral to land. I knew that the swift landing would catch Harry's attention. We contacted the leaf covered forest floor and I leapt off of the creature. It called and I gave it another piece of steak from my bag.

Luna and I soon heard Harry's footfalls crunching the shed leaves. I turned away and scrambled up one of the trees, camouflaging myself with still-green foliage. I wanted Harry to believe he was alone with Luna. I didn't want him to think that I had staged it. I hadn't, of course, but I knew that's what he would think.

As Harry approached Luna, I pulled a few leaves aside and heard her say clearly in her high, sing-song voice, "Hello, Harry Potter."

"Your feet. Aren't they cold?' Harry asked concernedly, glancing down at her bare feet.

"Bit." Luna answered sweetly. "Unfortunately, all of my shoes have mysteriously disappeared. I suspect Nargles are behind it."

"Are these Thestrals?" Harry asked, surveying the clearing as the creatures pranced and were at ease.

"Yes. They're quite gentle, really, but people avoid them because they're a bit..."

"Different." Harry offered.

"Why can't the others see them? Besides Rose, of course." Harry inquired as they started to walk toward the black Equinesque animals.

"They can only be seen by people who've seen death." Luna explained. Their footsteps got closer, and a baby Thestral, about the size of a new-born colt, tottered toward them from behind my tree.

"So, you've known someone who's died?" Harry asked.

"My mum. She was an extraordinary witch, but she liked to experiment, and... one day one of her spells went badly wrong. I was nine."

"I'm sorry." Harry answered quickly.

"It was quite horrible." Luna agreed, her hand buried in her denim messenger bag. I knew full well that there was fruit and meat in it. Thestrals were kind of like butterflies. The adults were omnivorous, enjoying a steak and the occasional apple equally, but the foals only ingested meat or suckled from their mothers like most mammals.

"I still feel very sad about it sometimes, but I've got dad." she finished slowly. I smiled. Luna was one of the most caring people I knew, and nothing seemed to faze her. "We both believe you, by the way." She continued. Harry turned his attention back to her as she pulled a beautiful red apple from her satchel. "That He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back, and you fought him, and the Ministry and the Prophet are conspiring against you and Dumbledore." she elaborated.

"Thanks," Harry breathed, his tone melancholy, "Seems you're about the only ones that do."

"Don't think that's true," the fourth year advised as she threw the apple to the baby Thestral. It sniffed it then shook its head in disgust and before looking at Luna. "I suppose that's how he wants you to feel."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"Well, if I were You-Know-Who... I'd want you to feel... cut off... from everyone else, cause... if it's just you alone... you're not as much of a threat." She smiled at the end, and Harry did the same. She tossed a small cut of meat to the baby, who sprung forward and gulped it eagerly.

"Thanks Luna."

"You're welcome Harry."

He turned to leave, but inquired, "Do you know who Rose lost?" I cringed in my tree, and I accidentally shook the leaves. Harry glanced up as I let the branch go so he couldn't see me, but a flock of birds luckily erupted from the tree a moment later, casting away Harry's suspicion that he was being watched. I stared disapprovingly into the green and gold, trying to control my emotions and keep from losing it again. Now days I found that sometimes the slightest show was able to set off my gift, and I didn't need any more people knowing about it, no matter how trustworthy.

"No, she never told me. Come to think of it, she never tells anyone about her past." Luna answered.

Harry turned and walked away toward the castle.

After he was out of sight, I jumped out of the tree and glared after him. "What right does he think he has to ask that?" I fumed.

"He was just curious, Ivy." Luna argued, using the nickname that only she and Draco knew. We all hung out before Hogwarts and at one of our play dates we gave each other nicknames: Luna's was Ivory, Draco's was Dragon, and mine was Ivy after I got myself hopelessly tangled in the plant after a stint of accidental magic.

I looked at her, and realized that I had to rein my emotions back in; my gift was right below the surface and itching to escape. "I'm sorry." I apologized, more to Harry than to Luna. "It's just uncomfortable to talk about."

"They were close to you, weren't they?"

I was taken by surprise, and couldn't answer for a few seconds. She was also very perceptive. "Yes, she was."


	8. Back to Normal?

**Chapter 8**

I debated whether or not to confront Harry about it. He had pried into a very personal matter for me, even if he was just acting on curiosity. The death that I had seen as a child had scarred me, and it was almost physically painful to talk about it. The nightmares and memories of the Deatheaters who had taken her from me had to be calmed by my mother for months afterwards. I hated the cult with a passion, but Draco's father being a member formerly did not faze me.

I knew that he'd changed, and he was a second father to me. I knew that he would never do anything to, or let anyone, hurt me. Narcissa was the same, but she was on neutral ground as the wife of a former Deatheater. I loved her nearly as much as my own mother, and no one could insult or lay a finger on the gentle woman on my watch.

No. I decided as I made my way to Madame Pomfrey's to help her in the hospital wing. I would simply let it go this time, but I would not go so easy on him if it happened again.

The hospital wing was darkening when I arrived, and Mr. Filtch had not come to light the candles yet, but I needed light to be able to work. I pulled my wand out of my pocket and recited effortlessly "Lumos." Instantly, the tip of my wand erupted with a bright white light that illuminated the store room enough for me to see my dark green dress and two year old apron hanging on a hook by the door.

I changed out of my skirt and white blouse, folding them neatly and setting them on a shelf installed there for that purpose, After slipping on the dress and tying the dingy apron around my waist, I stepped out of the storeroom, grabbing some of my frequently used potions-most of which made by yours truly-and shoving them into the pockets of my apron on my way out.

By then Filtch was on a ladder lighting one of the many candles, and I said "Nox," before slipping my wand back in my pocket.

I tended the first patient, a third year Hufflepuff with a broken arm from a bludger. Quidditch season had not yet started at Hogwarts, but the teams were trying out new players since some had graduated the year before, or left the team for one reason or another.

I quickly healed the girl, pouring some of the BoneHeal I had made in my most recent Potion's class with the help of Professor Snape onto her broken arm. She sucked in a breath and held back a scream when the fractured bone snapped into place and mended. "There you go. You'll be alright now." I told her.

Footsteps echoed from the hallway leading to the hospital wing and I thought nothing of it, continuing to tend to the patients that Madame Pomfrey hadn't seen to yet.

The footsteps grew louder and I heard a boy groan in pain and a pair of feet sliding on the floor while another set strode slowly toward the hospital wing. It seemed the one of the pair was helping a lamed other to the ward. I assumed it was other Quidditch players; they were the only patients in here right now except for a girl who was in a coma and had been since the first week. The teachers were now debating whether to send her to Saint Mungo's; they'd already alerted her parents.

I heard a voice call out and I froze, unable to even blink because of who the voice belonged to. "Ivy." It called. It was the voice of the only boy who called me by that name.

Draco Malfoy was in the hospital wing.

I stayed frozen for a second more, then turned as slowly as was polite, not quite willing to look him in the eye just yet. I did look at my newest patient, a short, dark haired Slytherin with a broken leg, what appeared to be a dislocated knee, and a blood soaked face from a broken nose. Quidditch tryouts resulted in injuries far more than the actual games, even in my limited experience.

"Hello Draco." I greeted cautiously, moving away from my now drugged patient and walking slowly toward him, averting my eyes before they could ever land on his flawless face, scrutinizing my patient instead.

He smiled nonetheless and shifted the weight of his housemate. Draco had been named the Slytherin's Team Captain this year since he was the best player on the team, although Harry decided that Draco must have instead bought himself the position, or had his father some how get it for him, like when Draco had joined the team in his second year and the entire team were gifted Nimbus 2001s by Mr. Malfoy. That was before Harry got his Firebolt from Sirius the next year. Draco could still give Harry a run for his money even on his slower broomstick, so he wasn't a bad player. He was one of the best Slytherin had ever had in fact.

I sighed inwardly and wondered if they would ever do so much as declare a truce, no matter how temporary. I hated seeing my two friends fighting constantly, especially when it was over me. I felt like the rope in a game of tug-of-war, always pulled between one or the other. They had occasionally questioned where my loyalties lay, declaring that I couldn't have it both ways. I hoped that they would eventually grow out of their rivalry.

His smile fell when he realized that I refused to look at him. He cast his icy gray eyes down and helped his housemate onto an empty cot. I pulled the white curtain and gave my newest patient a sleeping potion since it would be easier to take care of his extensive injuries with him knocked out, and it wouldn't hurt as much. I finished the preliminary examination and discovered that he also had a broken collarbone, a couple of broken ribs. I knew that I was right to give him the sleeping potion, healing him would have hurt like hell otherwise.

"What happened to him?" I asked the Slytherin Captain professionally, setting all of my potions onto the bedside table and sprinting back to the store room for more. When I returned Draco had situated his housemate straight on the bed with his arms folded over his chest and was wiping the blood off of his face with a damp cloth.

I stopped, struck by the contrast of the boy who I'd become used to seeing and the boy whom I saw now. He looked so kind and beautiful as he gingerly tended to his teammate. I sucked in a breath and my eyes sparked. Maybe the boy that I'd known as a child was still in there; perhaps all hope was not lost for Draco Malfoy.

I smiled lightly and arranged the medicines and ointments on the table in the order I'd use them. Draco spoke then, and I finally had the courage to look at him. It seemed so unlike a Gryfindor to be afraid, but there were different kinds of courage, some harder to muster than others.

"He was trying out to be a chaser." The blonde explained as he wiped the rest of the blood from the boy's face. "A bludger hit him in the shoulder and he hit the goalposts before he fell and his broom broke." He straightened the boy's disheveled hair. "He's only twelve." Draco said solemnly.

I pitied the battered second year and empathized with Draco, but our friendship was not back on track. He still had a lot to answer for and I wasn't ready to forgive him yet.

A high point though was that I saw the long lost sensitive side of him coming out as he cared for the boy. I hadn't ever seen that at school, and the last time I did was when I was invited to go to the Quidditch World Cup with him and his parents; the rest of my friends were not pleased.

I could have analyzed his multiple sides all day, but I had a job to do. I pulled my wand from the pocket of my apron and pointed it to the boy's fractured nose after Draco had wiped all of the blood away. I took a deep breath and said, "Episkey." There was a snap, and the boy's nose tweaked back into place. He stirred. I sighed. The pain must still be enough to partially wake him, or he was somehow resisting the sleeping potion.

Just to be sure I recited, "Dorme." He fell back into a deep slumber that no amount of pain could wake him from for several hours. His injuries were extensive, and I was the only healer in the Hospital Wing at the moment; everyone else was off at dinner.

I was glad that Umbridge had not barged in on me. She would have detained me for not only working alone, but probably for not using practices that were up to par; as in using student brewed potions and not letting Madame Pomfrey do all of the work.

My mind shifted back to the task at hand, and I started removing the boy's leather guards so that I could get a better look at his injuries, and some of the potions that I knew I needed to use, my signature BoneHeal specifically, needed to be poured on bare skin to work properly. Draco stayed my hand. I looked into his icy eyes, puzzled. "Let me do that." He said softly.

"I think I'm perfectly capable of doing it myself." I grumbled.

"Please Ivy." He begged. I blinked in shock. He was turning back into the young boy I'd known all those years ago right before my eyes, all condescension and prejudice gone from him. He hadn't been like that since before our first year. _What was happening to the Prince of Slytherin?_

I allowed him to remove the boy's armor himself while I uncorked most of the bottles and gently poured a few down the boy's throat.

"His name is Raymond Savvoy." Draco said quietly. I turned my head to look at him. He nodded his head toward our patient as he removed the boy's leg guards.

"Oh." I answered, not really knowing what else to say.

He rolled up Raymond's blood soaked pant leg after he removed his boots. I had a green bottle of BoneHeal in my hand and winced when I saw the damage. I was more grateful than ever that I'd had the foresight to put the second year to sleep before I started. What remained of his leg was not a pretty sight; the Fibula and Tibia of his left leg were exposed and poised at odd angles, and the flesh was mangled and red with blood, though most of it had already dried.

Draco's eyes grew wide as he took in the injury. My mind was spinning as I marveled at the way Draco had brought Savvoy in with such extensive injuries. He answered before I could ask. "I had no idea he was that bad."

"What really happened? Tell me everything Dragon." I demanded as I thought about the best way to help the comatose boy who laid on the now blood stained cot. He was hurt far more than I anticipated. I began to think that healing him might be outside of my expertise and considered advising that we send him to Saint Mungo's along with the girl in the far side of the wing. I shook my head. Even if I doubted myself, I knew I at least had to try.

Draco chuckled at the use of his old childhood nickname. He took a deep breath and then explained fully. "I was in the air watching it all." He stopped for a moment as I looked up at him from the boy's leg from which I was trying to wash all of the blood away. The bleeding had stopped, but the thick fluid stuck to his skin and turned the skin and bone a deep crimson. I couldn't see what I was doing with his leg in that state.

Draco glanced at me, his eyes now a warmer gray and full of emotion, peering deep into mine. "Raymond was heading for the goals, but one of the bludgers trained on him and shattered his broom. He went spinning and..." He stopped talking again and I could see the glint of tears forming in his eyes before he lowered his head. I gazed at my classmate gently, caring for him again as he began to break down over his story.

I laid my hand on his arm and he tilted his head up to look at me. "It's okay Draco." I whispered.

He wiped the water from his eyes and continued his narrative. "He went spinning and either the other bludger came at him or it was the same one, I'm not sure, but one of the bludgers hit him in his shoulder blade, shoving him into the goal post. Then he fell off of his broom into the gap between the stands and the Quidditch Pitch."

I winced, able to see the accident clearly in my head. "He hit the beams didn't he?" I guessed. He nodded.

"Poor kid." I breathed, stroking the sleeping boy's hair gently. I took out my wand again, now knowing exactly what I had to do, but I needed to put him under as much as I possibly could so that he wouldn't feel anything. "Dorme Maxima." Soft blue light poured out the tip of my wand and fell onto Raymond, putting him into a magically induced coma so deep that only magic could wake him up.

Now that I sure that Raymond would never feel anything, I want back over to his leg and gently nudged the fractured bones back in place for a seamless mend. I took my trusty bottle of BoneHeal and poured a small amount onto the bone, then looked away as the bones healed. It truly was bizarre the way the bones snapped back into place and healed; it was close to vomit inducing to watch it when the skin was broken and the bones were exposed. Draco followed my lead and looked away.

When the potion had done its work, I set it back on the table and poured one of the many other potions on Raymond's mangled skin, causing it to fuse together again without a scar. Working in the Hospital Wing was a grim business, but one of the most rewarding in the school, and it was encouraged for students to do an extra-curricular after their first year. Quidditch counted.

His leg healed, I turned my attention to the next injury that needed his leg healed to mend: his dislocated knee. I pulled the leg of his trousers up more and examined his knee. The tell tale swelling and shifted joint confirmed that my initial diagnosis was right; Raymond Savvoy, on top of everything else, had a badly dislocated knee cap.

I'd hoped that my diagnosis had in fact been wrong, fixing a dislocated knee was a two person job. I motioned for Draco to come over to my side of the cot. He looked at me quizzically, as if he wasn't quite sure what to do. I puled his arm and he stumbled over to me.

"I need you to hold his leg here." I said, wrapping my hands around Raymond's thigh about half way up. He replaced my hands quickly and I moved to Raymond's lower leg. "I need you to hold onto his leg _firmly_, okay?" I said. He nodded.

I grabbed hold of the boy's leg and looked at Draco. His eyes told me that he would not let go. "On three?" I said. He nodded again. I counted, and pulled. The joint snapped back into place with an audible crack.

The rest of Raymond's injuries were easier to tend to, and within another half an hour Raymond was well and I lifted the sleeping spell off of Raymond; he would wake in a few hours.

"Why have you been avoiding me?" asked Draco sharply after Raymond was sleeping soundly.

Suddenly enraged, I grabbed the lapel of his coat and pulled him into a far corner of the Hospital Wing. I stared into his face with my hard stare and frankly froze him in place. "Why am I avoiding you? You _insulted _me Draco Malfoy. You insulted me in front of my friends."

"When?" he asked indignantly.

I scoffed and resisted the urge to punch him in the jaw. "You insulted me when we got off the train. And don't even try to tell me that you didn't think I was listening because you looked right at me Draco. You knew that I would hear."

He was obviously taken aback by my outburst, but said nothing, still to proud to admit that he was in the wrong.

"You need to go." I answered back evenly, moving to go into the store room.

When I changed back into my normal clothes to head down to what remained of supper, Draco was gone.


	9. Failures and Broken People

**Chapter 9**

**Rose POV**

I found myself sitting at the dinner table with my favorite volume in front of me as I continued to read more of the healing magic book. Ron stuffed his face with a sausage link as he read the O.W.L study guide I'd loaned to him. Ron was studying so much for the upcoming O.W.L.s that he practically had facts pouring out of his ears – we weren't sure if any of them were actually sticking, however.

"Do you ever stop eating?" asked Hermione, sitting beside me and sounding annoyed. I looked up from my book.

The ginger looked away from the pamphlet and stared at Hermione with indignation. "What? I'm hungry." he answered back with his mouth still full of ground pork. I swallowed hard and turned my attention back to my book. It was easy to get lost in it it was so interesting. My friends couldn't find the appeal, but no one ever questioned Hermione's fascination with ancient runes either.

Harry cautiously walked up to us. "Can I join you?"

Hermione and I looked at each other, puzzled; Harry normally just sat down beside us when he wanted.

"Uh, yeah." I answered back hesitantly.

He moved to sit down, but we all turned toward the door when we heard Professor Umbridge arguing with someone. "Pardon me, Professor, but what, exactly, are you insinuating?" All of us filed out the door to watch the exchange.

"I am merely requesting that when it comes to my students, you conform to the perscribed disciplinary practices." retorted our Head of House.

I noticed that Draco was standing behind and a little to the right of me with a small smile. I hadn't realized that he hated our new teacher too, what with her being a former Slytherin herself.

"So silly of me, but it _sounds_ as if you are questioning _my_ authority in my _own_ classroom." Exclaimed Umbridge, stepping up a few stairs to appear above professor McGonnagal; however, the drastic height difference between the two witches meant that Umbridge was still a good three inches below my Transfiguration teacher. Not satisfied with the increase in stature, the pink woman stepped up a few more. "Minerva."

"Not at all, _Delores_." Professor McGonagal emphasized, moving up to the same step as Umbridge, causing the shorter woman to look even more like a cross badger. "merely your medieval methods!" Cried my Head of House, appalled.

Umbridge went up a few more steps, intent on proving her superiority. Her voice was practically dripping with condescension. "I'm sorry, Dear, but to question my methods is to question the Ministry... and by extension... the Minister himself!" Umbridge's shriek got breathy as she worked herself up, taking personal offense to the notion that the faculty were denying her the ability to turn the school into a torture chamber. "I am a tolerant woman, but the one thing I will not stand for is disloyalty!"

Gryfindor's Head of House stepped down, completely aghast at what had just spewed from the D.A.D.A teacher's mouth. "Disloyalty." She repeated.

Satisfied that she'd gotten the upper hand on one of the few teachers who intimidated her, Umbridge took yet another step up and turned to us, and, as if she'd rehearsed it hundreds of times, announced loudly, "Things at Hogwarts are far worse than I feared. Cornelius will want to take immediate action." She paused to make sure that we were awe-struck by her presence, then sauntered up the stairs to her classroom, leaving us wondering what more the Ministry would do to Hogwarts.

I looked back at Draco, and his face had fallen; he wasn't expecting that outcome. I sprinted up to Professor McGonnagal before she could retreat back to her office. "Professor?"

She turned to me, her severe eyes solemn and worried. "Yes, Ms. Braddock?"

"What do you think Umbridge will do?"

Her gaze fell on me, full of loathing for Umbridge. "I don't know dear." She answered quietly, staring after the horrid woman. Surprisingly, she turned her gaze down to my still injured hand. The gashes had healed more since my argument with Draco the month before, but it was slow, and I decided that Umbridge must have put some kind of stasis charm on the quills; Harry still hadn't healed either, even when I put as much of my gift into healing the both of us as I could without injuring myself further. Although there were no longer any cuts on my skin, the marks were still an angry red and I knew that I would bare the scars for the rest of my life.

"Still not healing?" stated my second favorite professor, second only to Professor Snape.

"No." I confirmed, pulling the sleeve of my robe back over the marred skin.

"Thank you for telling me about her, Rose." McGonnagal retreated to her office, and I started on my way to the Common-room, finished with supper. About half way across the castle and on one of the many landings that the unpredictable stairs connected to, I realized that I'd forgotten my favorite book back in the Great Hall, and I didn't want to run back for it; who knew which way the staircases were heading. I pulled out my wand when I heard a voice behind me, belonging once again to a certain Slytherin. Was Draco stalking me?

I turned none-the-less, and was surprised to see my book in his hands. "Oh, thank you." I said quickly, taking the book from him and fully intending to escape to Gryfindor Tower. I turned to go, but he rested his hand on mine as it clasped the railing, stopping me. I whipped my head back, surprised.

"Please wait Rose." He begged.

My eyes widened. _What was happening to Draco that was turning him back into how I'd known him as a ten year old boy? _"What?" I shot back curtly.

"I'm sorry." As the words fell from his perfect mouth, I blinked in confusion. Having a captive audience, he continued. "I'm sorry for insulting you, I'm sorry for everything wrong that has happened between us here. I'm sorry." he gushed.

How very fortunate it was that this entire staircase was devoid of people except us. Having someone see Draco pouring out his heart and acting kind, to a Gryfindor no-less, would completely ruin his reputation in the school.

I thought for a moment, leaving him waiting for my answer. Was I ready to forgive him? It'd been a full month and a half since the incident, and my anger towards him seemed to have ebbed for the most part or else I would have thrown him out of the Hospital Wing when he'd arrived with Raymond. I scrutinized his face and he seemed genuinely remorseful and apologetic. Maybe I _was_ ready to give him another chance... and I _did_ miss him. No. I was still furious with him and I needed more time. I didn't quite hate him, but the feeling I still felt toward him was pretty darn close.

I made eye contact with Draco and said evenly, "Thank you for grabbing my book for me, but I'm not ready to forgive you yet. Goodbye."

**Draco POV**

I sprinted down the stairs, needing to get out of there, turning back only to see Rose's long, radiant red hair swing as she entered Gryfindor Tower.

I passed the Chosen One on the way down to my Common-room. He didn't normally come this way, and it was a perfect opportunity to have a little fun to balance out the rejection and guilt I was now feeling.

"Having a nice evening, Potter?" I called mockingly, feeling more apt to jab at him than usual. "Remember, I am a Prefect Potter."

He glared with his piercing green eyes that seemed to always be a perfect match to Rose's no matter how many times I saw them, and ignored me, heading down the corridor to god knows where. I turned my attention back to going to my Common-room and reading the reply to the letter I'd sent nearly a month before. Mail was excruciatingly slow these days.

I whispered the new password, damn thing changed every two weeks, and sprinted down the unveiled corridor, finally feeling comforted by the grandeur of the green and silver furnished dungeon. Blaize sat in one of the armchairs by the fireplace reading a well worn novel. He stood and walked up to me. "How did it go?" Blaize had skipped dinner and was unaware of what had happened over the last half hour.

My silence was answer enough.

"Oh. I'm sorry." He remarked, casting his eyes down.

I fumbled with the letter in my hands, opening it with a flick of my wand and reading it.

_Draco,_

_I received your letter, and I understand your concern for Rose, but I regret to say that what is happening at Hogwarts at is out of my control. The Minister himself has instigated the interference at Hogwarts and I have already tried to persuade him. _

_I'm sorry Draco. Keep yourself out of trouble, and try to keep an eye on Rose too._

_Your Father,_

_Lucius Malfoy._

I glared down at the letter, promptly crumpling the paper and throwing the mess into the fire that glowed green. There was nothing else I could do to protect Rose. It made me furious; a girl so brave and kind did not deserve to be treated so cruelly, even _if _she could no longer stand the sight of me.

Behind me, Millicent Bulstrode, a girl who fancied me but who I hadn't given a second glance, emerged from the girls' dormitory with a wide smirk on her face. "So, Draco, any luck on your whole fling with the 'Princess of Gryfindor'?" she mocked.

I turned and glared murderously at her. "You better watch your tongue, Bulstrode!" I fumed, whipping out my wand instantly, secretly hoping to practice my dueling skills on someone other than Blaize.

She just laughed at me, before heading back to the dormitory that she shared with Pansy Perkenson. Since she was a mutual friend of Rose and I, perhaps Pansy could dispel the rumors that Bulstrode clearly meant to spread across the school.

I walked over to the couch that Blaize had moved to and plopped down on it, my head in my hands as I tried to sort and contain all of the emotions running through my head in regards to the beautiful, smart, funny, kind, stubborn, absolutely _enchanting_ green-eyed Gryfindor. Blaize soon looked over and laid his hand on my shoulder in a comforting manner.

I was broken out of my reverie and peered at him, confused. "What are you doing?"

He smiled lightly and answered back, "I think you're falling in love with her, Draco."

That statement sent all of my barriers and conditioning into overdrive. I shot out of my seat and faced Blaize with a murderous glare in my eyes, stunning him into silence. "I am not in love with Rose!" I declared, my hand itching toward my wand again. I had a few curses on my tongue that I would have thrown had he _not _been my best friend, but I still would jinx him if he pushed me. "She can't stand the sight of me." I moaned.

Blaize smirked at me driving my annoyance higher. "Sure you don't, Draco. Then why on earth did you get so furious when Umbridge tortured her?" He questioned, tearing down my facade a little.

I tried to think of something witty to throw back, but nothing would come, and I knew my side of the argument was quickly deteriorating. Finally I said. "It could never work. Besides, she's Gryfindor's Princess."

"Draco, you've known her longer than anyone else, and, pureblood or not, she's the only girl I've _ever_ seen you look at other than to torment like you do Granger." The Italian boy pointed out.

I opened my mouth the protest again how I was _not _head-over-heels for a girl who apparently hated me, but when nothing came out he continued. "I know you, Draco. You haven't had her off your mind since school started, and you haven't been yourself since last month. What happened?"

I sat in the armchair he vacated earlier and rested my face in my hands again. After a long moment while I riled in the memory, I finally said through my hands, "I saw the marks on her hands from Umbridge." "And she is spending too much time with _Potter_." I added snidely.

Blaize leaned back on the couch and threaded his hands behind his head nonchalantly and relaxed on the sofa, seemingly satisfied with my disgust.

"You, my friend, are jealous of Harry Potter."

"I am _not _jealous of Potter!" I retorted instantly.

He sighed victoriously regardless and took on a peaceful expression that made him look to all the world like he was asleep. I growled under my breath in frustration before retreating to my personal dorm and readying for bed, adamantly repeating to myself that I was not jealous of Harry Potter or in love with my best friend before Hogwarts.


	10. Reactions

**Chapter 10**

**I know my updates had petered off, Senior year and a slight case of writer's block, but now I'm back on, and my updates will be infrequent for now while I try to move.**

**Thank you everyone who has loved this story and made me very happy because of it. **

**Talk to you all soon. Please, R&amp;R, and stay tuned.**

**Sophie.**

**Rose's POV**

I watched with curiosity as Filtch scaled the tallest ladder I've ever seen and shook the castle with the dull thuds of his hammer as he pounded a thick nail into the ancient stone above the door of the Great Hall. He put a framed notice on the nail, and I had to stare at it hard to read what it said. When was finally able to read it, what I saw turned my stomach. Umbridge had been named the Hogwarts High Inquisitor to Address the Falling Standards of Hogwarts. The Ministry had given her powers just below those held by the Headmaster, and I had a feeling that Umbridge would aspire to that post as well.

I swallowed, knowing now that nothing was stopping the torture. I also had a feeling that the walls around the door would soon fill with more of her decrees. "What are you doing?" Snapped Filtch in his gravely voice, "Don't you have some studying to do or something?"

"Oh, yeah." I said unsurely before turning tail and heading back down the corridor. I normally didn't display that kind of cowardice, but my brain was overwhelmed with what the notice meant for me. If Umbridge had been named High Inquisitor, then she had the power to wreck my life and that of my housemates; but that was not all that I worried about. Since Harry and I served detention with her, she seemed to become enamored with causing me pain, and she loved to literally add insult to injury, emotionally and verbally abusing me.

I walked down the hall, intent on absorbing myself in books, when I saw them, wrapped in green and silver Slytherin robes. The trio, all in my year, were stalking toward me, seeming to follow in Umbridge's footsteps on her Bully-The-Girl-Who-Sided-With-Harry-Potter regime.

The girl, and the party's leader, was of average hight, with olive skin and dark coarse hair that was tied loosely with a black ribbon. Her eyes were dull hazel flecked with olive green. She wasn't the prettiest girl in the school by any means: my old friend in Slytherin, Pansy, was far more beautiful. Millicent appeared to make up for her lack of popularity and her "looks count for everything" complex by striving to be the best—or worst, taken another way—bully in the school. Her cronies were testiment to that. Crabbe and Goyle, two rather unintelegent students who had run with Draco before he came to his senses the year before, flanked the haughty Slytherin, who adored bullying me above all of the others.

"Hey, Potter Lover!" They called. I scoffed and shook my head in amusement. They meant for the label to be an insult, but since I didn't have any glaring impurities of blood or birth like they seemed to believe my housemate had, they were reduced to pathetically grasping at straws.

"I've got a trip to the library to get back to." I answered, before continuing confidently on my way.

"Hey, you don't walk away from us!" Goyle barked.

I shut them out and strode couragously onward. Personally I'd found that ignoring them was the best way to deal with their bullying - they wouldn't get the satisfaction of a reaction from me - but Umbridge was another story altogether.

They, in turn, walked toward me. I quickly whipped out my wand and held my beloved book against my chest, knowing that it would be their target. "Stay away from me." I warned harshly.

"Ooh, ginger's got teeth." They mocked.

"I'm warning you." I snapped, picking up my pace so as not to be boxed in.

They hastened their advance, and pulled out their wands, their eyes trained on my precious book.

I was furious that they weren't backing off, annoyed that they weren't backing off, and frightened that they weren't backing off; each emotion warring with the other, my gift trying to latch onto one and escape. I held my careful control in place and walked down the hall on the way to the library. Suddenly, I felt a rough hand on my arm. Very calmly, too calm perhaps, I said, "Let go of me."

They ignored me and forced me to face them. "We rule thi..." Millicent started. Her mouth clamped noisily shut when she saw the murder in my stare. Like all bullies, they were cowards in a real confrontation.

"Let me go, and I'll forget this ever happened." I offered. They complied and scampered away like frightened deer.

I smiled to myself, pleased that I'd been able to stave off the assault, if only for a second. Once I was almost to the door, I was hit with the nauseating scent of ultra-concentrated rose perfume.

The woman who it emanated from, with her hair in its usual curled do and now holding a clip board after her promotion to High Inquisitor, sauntered down the hall authoritatively. My resolve wavered. It wasn't so easy for me to combat the D.A.D.A. Teacher as it was to fend off the Slytherin bullies. I ducked my head to make myself less noticeable, hoping I could sneak past her. I failed.

"Something wrong, Dear?" She asked in mock concern in her obnoxiously high squeak.

"No. Not at all." I answered, confident and sweet, "Good evening professor." I tried to walk forward, but found my feet stuck to the floor. I braced myself, wondering absently if the abuse would be emotional, physical, or verbal this time. I looked behind me and saw that she bore her most condescending grin. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, increasing my grip on my gift. I'd been following my parents advice to a tee, and I didn't plan on letting them down now.

She walked in front of me and lifted my chin with one of her short, sausage fingers, forcing me to look into her muddy brown eyes. "You are such a silly child Braddock." She crooned. I fought to keep the rage off my face as the memories of what she liked to do to me resurfaced once again. "You are far too weak and insignificant to go against me, and you are a very bad girl for telling lies along with Potter." She let my chin go and walked away. "And remember," I turned to face her. "Naughty children deserve to be punished." She flicked her wand, and I hissed when my hand burned. I looked down and watched as the words _I must not tell lies _that were permanently scarred into my hand blazed red and hot, and blood once again began to seep through my skin, dyeing my hand a bright crimson.

I glared at the marks, resentment tainting my mind, and looked behind me to see Umbridge plaster a small satisfied smile onto her face and stride down the hall as if she owned it.

I looked at my hand and realized that the blood ran freely down my fingers, dripping into a small puddle on the floor. I could tell that she had charmed it somehow so as too not let the blood clot on its own. I had to do something before more blood was on the floor than circulating through my body.

Thankfully my wand was of a kind that seemed to be perfectly suited to healing magic. I touched it to the cut and whispered a spell that I'd made up the year before. I was pretty good at Latin, enough to know what words would give me what result. "Sanguio." The blood stopped welling from my body, and a quick "Agua-Menti," washed it from my sore hand. The puddle on the floor was still there, but I knew that Filtch got angry if the students cleaned up messes for him. How I could explain this to him in a way that would make his see reason I had no idea; he seemed completely enamored with Umbridge as much as she was with abusing me.

I sheathed my wand and retreated into the library. I navigated the massive, book-filled room, considering heading to the Restricted Section which I had access to so that I could be alone and vent without hurting anyone. On the way to said section, I bumped into another familiar face, but it was one that I did not want to see.

He gazed at me awkwardly and I pushed past him, leaving him standing in the library alone. I knew that with how hurt I felt and how he'd treated me also before this year, it would take a lot more than just an "I'm sorry" for me to forgive Draco Malfoy.


	11. Effects and Consequences

**Chapter 11**

**Rose POV.**

It seemed that every time I passed the Great-Hall door, the dark stone around it was being cluttered by more and more of Umbridge's restrictive decrees, and the only time I saw Filtch was on that massive ladder of his. The din of his hammer blows were never ending.

After a full month had passed, the wall was so crammed with the framed parchments that the old caretaker had had to start encroaching on the picture walls. The paintings had no qualms about voicing their displeasure. Umbridge had threatened more than once to have Fitch take them down, even-though that was far beyond her current powers.

Her attempts to take over the school were most evident in the Defense-Against-the-Dark-Arts classroom, where we were quickly reduced to nothing but tedious copy-work, three times each to be exact. She claimed that it was to make us memorize the content of our books, but the information in the accursed book _Defensive Magic for Beginners _or whatever it was called, I'd stopped caring long ago, was what was taught to the first years. Her complete and utter lack of instruction on the subject was going to make the less advanced students in my year fail their O.W.L.s on the subject for sure.

Was the Ministry so power-hungry that they wanted the wizards and witches under their rule to be reduced to sheeple, or just completely defenseless against the threat I knew loomed menacing over us, unseen and in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to strike when we were powerless to stand against them?

Since I personally knew the Minister of Magic - having dined with him several times and even been invited, along with the rest of my family, to the World Cup before the infamous attack - I knew that he was a paranoid man scared to death of the prospect of the return of You-Know-Who, but he didn't seemed to me like a true leader; he seemed more like a puppet, being controlled by the fear-mongers within the Ministry. However, I wouldn't put it past the Ministry to recruit Death-eaters, known or not, into positions of power. For all I knew, Umbridge was a Death-eater who was still unknown to the public. That would explain the torture she seemed to enjoy inflicting on the students of Hogwarts. She seemed to particularly enjoy abusing the Gryfindors.

The final straw came when Umbridge took the wand of a second year Ravenclaw who was harmlessly practicing a spell that I had taught her to heal bruises since she was prone to being bullied under the guise that she had decreed that no magic could be practiced in the halls, causing her bruises to reappear and open into bleeding wounds. I exploded when I came to the little girl's rescue.

"What... What is your problem, Professor?! Do you get off on hurting innocent children?! She did nothing to you!" I screamed as she walked away.

She turned then, striding back up to me as I stood my ground. My gift itched to be released, feeding off of my anger at the revolting woman. "Do you dare question my authority?" she asked condescendingly, pulling her uncommonly short wand from her sweater pocket.

"When it comes to my little sister, _absolutely_." I seethed, my voice drowned in venom. I pushed Rose behind me and she bolted. Now that my little sister was out of the line of fire, I drew out my wand and held it semi-passively at my side, expecting an altercation.

"Naughty children deserve to be punished, young Rose. Your sister is no different." she replied.

My fury rose, and I screeched at the woman, startling her slightly, as I raised my wand to her. My anger was causing me to lose my careful control on both my emotions and my gift, and I had several jinxs on my tongue to shoot her way if she brought me to it. "How dare you!? My sister is not at fault here. I taught her that spell to help her. You and your torture will stop, mark my words. No one messes with my family." I hissed menacingly.

I realized then that I had attracted an audience as the hallway I was in flanked the courtyard. Students piled in the arches as they watched us. I considered throwing a hex her way, a stun on my tongue, when I realized that I could use my audience to my advantage. Umbridge never retaliated or tortured if she had a witnesses. She knew that Dumbledore would depose her if he got wind of what she was doing, but she had scared the students she abused into silence with the threat of detention with a Blood-Quill or worse. I had told Professor McGonagall, but either she hadn't told the Headmaster, or he was somehow powerless to deal with her. I didn't like that possibility.

Personally, I didn't care if I got detention with a Blood-Quill. It would be nice to toy with her in return, letting my gift go just enough to heal me at the same rate as the Blood-Quill followed its design, so as to look like I had grown immune to its effects.

_Oh, how it would drive her insane. _I thought, the idea infecting my brain as fury consumed me. I pushed the thought away. There was no reason to be rash if I was to be serving detention anyway for protecting my sister. There was something though that I could do for her.

Knowing that my audience was keeping Umbridge powerless, I raised my wand and thought, _Accio Rose's wand._ My sister's ten inch long, light colored wand flew from Umbridge's grasp and landed in my hands. I had long since grown adept at non-verbal spells.

The students clapped wildly that some student had the courage to stand up to Umbridge. "Rose Braddock," Umbridge said slowly, her fear flooding off of her in a torrent, "You will serve detention for the rest of the week at seven thirty in my office."

She slunk away.

The students roared, but I just felt sick. What had happened? It was so unlike me to take advantage of someone else. Even if it was someone like Umbridge it felt overly wrong.

I suddenly felt weak, the cause quickly made known to me. Magic pulsed from me, renewing the cuts on Umbridge's hands.

My vision faded, my legs buckled, and – in front of God and everyone - I collapsed to the cold stone below.


	12. Intervention

**Chapter 12**

**I'm sorry I haven't really updated lately. I am currently waiting to fly in a few days to my new house, and then my moving situation will be over. I'll update more often after that.**

**Sophie. **

**Rose POV**

I woke up in the Hospital wing that evening, and Umbridge dragged me out of my bed to serve detention with her, again with the Blood Quill. I thought again about messing with her and allowing my gift to heal me as fast as I could write with the Blood Quill, but doing so would drain me again, and I didn't have an explanation for her that wouldn't give me away. I bore the pain in silence and unwillingly gave her the resulting satisfaction, and endured it again for the three days that remained in the week.

I finally came to a conclusion: Umbridge and the Ministry had gone too far. If Harry refused to train our classmates, then I would.

It was a cold and rainy Halloween night when Ron, Hermione, Harry, and I sat in the empty common room. Everyone was off at dinner, but we had eaten early. Sirius had told us that he would contact us around eight thirty. Harry kept watching the flames as I paced the room and Hermione stared out the window. Ron sided with Harry and stared into the light. Those boys were going to go blind at this rate.

I spoke up after the silence began to drive me batty. "Alright Harry. If you won't teach the students, then I will." I asserted firmly. He blew up then, turning and looking at me as if I had two heads.

"No Rose." He ordered.

Before I could think of a good retort, the fire sputtered to life and the face of Sirius Black formed itself out of the glowing embers of the dying fire. "Sirius." Harry whispered urgently.

Hermione and I raced to the fire and I sat on the floor while Hermione joined Ron on the couch. Harry moved to kneel next to me on the floor by Sirius. "How are you? I hear that Umbridge is not letting you use magic?" Sirius said in a thin raspy voice.

"Sirius she's not letting us use magic at all." Harry stated.

"Hm. It appears that Fudge doesn't want you trained in combat…" Sirius informed us.

"Combat?" Ron cut in. We turned to look at him. "What, does he think we're making some sort of Wizard Army?" He leaned down and interlaced his fingers with his hands in his lap.

"That is exactly what he thinks. Our sources tell us that he is afraid that Dumbledore is preparing to take on the Ministry."

I sat amazed by the accusation. Our headmaster, the great Albus Dumbledore, take over the Ministry? The thought made me want to laugh.

"No one in his right mind would…" Harry started.

"He isn't, Harry." Sirius said. "The war is coming, and you students better prepare yourselves for it." Sirius Black finished before he melted into the embers of the smoldering fire.

Hermione got up after our conversation with Sirius had ended and drifted to the window as lightning broke through the sky. Harry and I stood and followed her. The stone floor really was a very uncomfortable place to sit for long. As Hermione peered out the rain soaked window, she mused. "We're not learning how to defend ourselves. We're not learning how to pace our OWLs. She's taking over the entire school." She had very good valid points, and I was about to say that I agreed when she continued. "If Umbridge won't teach us how to defend ourselves we need to find someone who will." She turned around and looked at us. The stare she gave Harry seemed to make him uneasy, but with as much pressure as was being put on him, I would be too.

Harry was debating in his mind whether he should take up what he had refused to the month before or if he should keep himself out of the fray. I walked over to the debating man and put my hand on his shoulder. He whipped his head around to look at me.

"Harry…" I started, unsure of how to word it. He continued to think and appeared to be getting nowhere. "It is a large undertaking." I said, formulating my proposition as I went along. If only I had my parent's powers of perfect speech. They always seemed to know what to say, no matter the occasion. However, in times when I wasn't around they may fumble about with their words just as bad I was now. "And I think it is too big for… any one… person… to tackle. But… you have _us _Harry. We're your friends and… friends help each other. And if we are ever going to have a chance of defeating…" I rolled the unpleasant word on my tongue several times before I finally said it, "_Voldemort_… then we're going to need all the help we can get. So… what do you say, Harry Potter, do this together?" I held my hand out in offering.

He analyzed it and left it there as if it was going to bite him, and I lost my confidence and began to lower it, feeling like a fool. If I couldn't help my best friends, how would I ever take my parent's place at the Ministry and change our government for the better? Finally though, he took my hand and agreed, "Together." I beamed in acknowledgement.

Hermione and Ron soon joined hands with us and we sealed the pact. We would assist Harry and each other with our new Dumbledore's Army—the name chosen by me to spite the Ministry—and we would only recruit those who we thought as trustworthy; or, as Harry thought trustworthy. I knew that it would be impossible to convince Harry to let Slytherins in on it, and he was the main teacher. It was for the best I guess. I would have to think up some reasonable excuse if Draco got an inkling of what I was doing.

"Where should we go to try and… recruit people?" I said awkwardly. I bit my lip as they talked.

"Well, we could go into one of the classrooms and do it there." Offered Ron.

"Are you mental?" balked Harry. "Umbridge would find out if we did it somewhere inside the castle."

"The Shrieking Shack?" Hermione spoke this time.

"We could never get the students to go there." I said. "The Three Broomsticks perhaps?"

"No. Too public." Answered Hermione.

"No." interjected Harry. We all looked at him. "I think she's right." Harry got up off the floor and we followed.

Ron protested, agreeing with Hermione. "The Three Broomsticks is too public. We'd be found out."

"Not the Three Broomsticks, Ron." Harry countered. Our interest was piqued and I motioned Harry to continue with his plan. "The Three Broomsticks isn't the only pub in Hogsmead." He pointed out.

"Do you mean the Hogshead?" Hermione sighed. The Hogshead was a run-down old pub that hardly anyone went into anymore. I was surprised that the owner: a big, bearded man named Aberforth; hadn't closed it down already.

"It could work." I said. "It's the best place we've got." I finished.

"The Hogshead it is." Harry exclaimed.

* * *

The first snowfall of the winter months swirled about our feet as we made our way through Hogsmead into the Hogshead Pub. Umbridge had tried to have the permission to visit Hogsmead revoked school wide, but the Headmaster had put his foot down on that issue.

Harry pushed open the creaky door of the little pub with his gloved hand. The light that filtered in through the door showed us that the Hogshead was just as run down as we had assumed, but no one had told us about the goats. Before Harry walked cautiously into the pub he asked openly. "Are you sure about this guys?"

I shoved him into the pub and came in behind him so that he couldn't run right back out.

"It will be fine Harry. Come on, students will be arriving soon."

We made our way to the fireplace in the main room, got ourselves situated, and waited for our potential students. Harry was sitting on a stool by the cold fireplace while I sat on a table and swung my legs absently with Ron and Hermione sitting and standing respectively when our first wave of class mates trickled in. The flow was slow at first, quickly building until we had an excess of twenty five students crowded into the front room of the Hogshead Pub.

Once everyone had assembled in the Pub, Hermione started awkwardly. "Hi. Well, you all know why we're here. We need a teacher. A proper teacher. One who has experience defending against the Dark Arts."

Harry cut in. "You know, I'm not the best."

"He's just being modest." Hermione assured them.

"No Hermione," Harry interjected, "I'm not. Out there… is not like school. If you do something wrong at school then… oh well, you can just try again tomorrow. But, when you're a second away… from being murdered, or you're watching a friend die right before your eyes, you don't know what that's like. And if you're just here to hear about Cedric I'm sorry to disappoint you." Harry finished.

His speech was so emotional and moving that I felt tears prick my eyes, knowing exactly whom he was talking about. Cedric had been like a brother to me in my first year, and he had helped me get my bearings when no one else would.

As people began mumbling and started to leave, Luna—bless you Luna!—asked, "Is it true you can do the Patronus Charm?"

Dean Thomas, standing next to my cousin Ginny, piped up. "I didn't know you could do that Harry."

To this inquiry I was the one who answered, happy to be able to get a word in. "Yes. We both can."

Some of the students breathed in sharply, and Ron added, "And in our third year he took on over fifty Dementors at once."

"Can you show us?" Asked one of the students in the back, a skeptical Ravenclaw with bobbed brown hair and glasses.

"Oh, no." Harry answered her modestly. The girl sniffed and began to walk away, satisfied that the Boy-Who-Lived wasn't all he was cracked up to be.

I made a humming kind of sound - the kind that you make when you are wordlessly trying to get someone's attention - and retrieved my wand. The girl turned again and the rest of the party leaned in closer to watch me. "Expecto Patronum." I said quietly, drawing off memories of playing in the snow with my family.

A white mist emanated from my Holly wand, slowly growing until a silky white ferret was bounding around the room and chasing the skeptic, causing laughter to ignite in the rest of the group. "Okay, I believe you!" She screamed.

Before long, all of the group were lined up by a table and signing their names into a ledger that I had brought with me. By the time we left the Hogshead pub, Dumbledore's Army had grown from four to thirty four students – with no safe place to train. As we trekked back to the school in a pack, students threw suggestions about like a game of Hot Potato.

"The Hogshead?" asked a random student.

"No, too small, and it would make Aberforth angry anyways." I shot back.

"Myrtle's bathroom?" offered Ginny. We just looked at her as if she'd grown another head.

"The Shrieking Shack?" Offered Hermione.

I opened my mouth to remind her that there would be no way that the students would go into the Shrieking Shack, but Harry beat me to it. "No, too small." Countered Harry.

"The Room of Requirement?" I offered.

Harry looked at me as if he'd lost his glasses, his emerald green eyes eerily like my own unfocused but searching my face for my meaning. Did he think it was a myth? Well, I guess it would make sense; not many people knew of the Room of Requirement, an ancient room made out of the Castle's magic that always had whatever the seeker required, but only when they truly needed it. It didn't take an emergency to make the room appear, but it did take more than an urgent need for the lavatory, or so I'd read. Hermione wasn't the only bookish one of the four.

"The Room of Requirement? But that is just a myth." Harry replied.

"I've read that it isn't, and, well, it's worth a shot." I answered back.

Hermione, far livelier than usual and almost skipping down the bridge with her hair bouncing under her hat, replied, "Who cares? It's refreshing isn't it, breaking the rules?" She sounded breathless, giddy at rebelling against the teacher that we probably all universally hated.

My cousin chuckled under his breath and picked up his pace so that he was toward the front with us. "Who are you and what have you done with Hermione Granger?"

Hermione beamed. "At least there is one good thing that came from today."

"What?" asked Harry, curious.

"Cho couldn't take her eyes off you could she?" Hermione answered back. Behind me, I heard Ginny growl under her breath.

If we'd looked up as we entered the castle, we would have seen Umbridge standing on the balcony of the Clock-Tower, but we didn't, and at that point, we didn't care. We had finally carved a chip out of her overreaching rule, and that was enough for us at that moment.

The next day Umbridge put up another one of her famous decrees; or Filtch put it up I should say. Umbridge would never get her hands dirty like that. She decreed that all student organizations with more than three students was disbanded from that point, and any student who dared to defy her would find themselves on the train back to London before that could say "Umbridge". Oh, the Quiditch teams would be having a word with the Headmaster about that one.

I for one was looking intensely for the Room of Requirement at every possible moment, feeling that it was the only place where we could be truly safe from Umbridge, since the door was said to disappear after all who needed it were in or out.

Finally, after being bullied by Crabbe and Goyle, Neville found it.

* * *

**Thank you everyone for liking and reading my work. **


	13. A friend's betrayal is the worst of all

**Chapter 13**

**Rose POV**

It was a large room, walled in glass, with many wooden statues made to resemble Death-Eaters. They were set on wheels and as soon as we entered the room the first time they began to move, and their wands actually worked. It was as if Hogwarts wanted us to fight back.

The month before Christmas allowed Harry to begin teaching the students. He was a compassionate and able teacher, eager to help the students who needed it, like Neville. Neville seemed insecure in his magic skills, and often injured himself. I, of course, was ready to heal him and all the other students who hurt themselves.

We tried our best to stay out of Umbridge's sight, which was about as good as saying that a a shark could be outrun by a minnow. Luckily she never discovered the entrance to the Room of Requirement. Not even her Inquisitorial Squad could catch us.

I had to keep my distance from Draco Malfoy for obvious reasons, and when he confronted me about where I was going every afternoon or so I'd had to think up a stupid lie about taking extra classes with Madame Pomfrey. What else could I say to him? It's not like I could say that I was one of the founders of a prohibited Defense-Against-the-Dark-Arts training club. I hoped that he wouldn't do anything drastic, but we parted on bad terms. He left furious.

My uncle was grievously injured at the end of November and sent to Saint Mungo's in critical condition. Oddly it was Harry who told us that he was hurt, something about a strange dream where he was the one attacking my uncle in the guise of a large snake. I was roused from bed to go to the magic hospital to be with my uncle. I never found out what happened after Harry informed us of my Uncle's plight, but, then again, I never asked. Uncle Arthur stayed in Saint Mungo's for a month, and was set to be discharged around Christmas.

Back at Hogwarts it was business as usual; until the a few days before Christmas Vacation. After the last class before the Holidays, we were all seated by the fire. Hermione and I had french braided eachother's hair, and sat beside eachother on the sofa, with Ron on the other side of Hermione and Harry on the floor. He was beaming like a lunatic. "What's gotten into you, Harry?" Asked my cousin.

"I kissed Cho."

Knock me over with a feather. As Hermione and Ron were contemplating Cho's situation and my cousin's emotional range; something like that of a teaspoon, I was reeling at what Harry had just admitted he'd done, and I was furious.

He'd actually kissed Cho Chang, the over-emotional Ravenclaw that he'd heavily crushed on last year! How could he do this to Ginny? It was no secret, to me at least, that Ginny was crushing hard on my friend, but how could he go and kiss a girl who could never stop crying? Ginny was a much better fit for him. _She _wasn't over emotional and could take care of herself just fine thank you very much. How this would devastate her if she ever found out. I decided to take it upon myself to make sure that she wouldn't. I wouldn't let my cousin's heart be broken like that.

"How could you?!" I snapped, getting up to go off to bed while my three friends looked confusedly after me. Maybe they thought _I _crushing on Harry. Ee, I hoped not. I didn't want anything to do with Harry Potter at the moment. Unfortunately I would have to ride with him on the train back to London for Christmas break.

We vacationed at the headquarters for the Order. I joined my mother for most of our stay, simply because she was almost always in the kitchen, and Harry almost never was. I was still mad at him. I worried greatly about my uncle as Christmas grew ever closer and he failed to come home.

Finally, on Christmas day, battered, broken, bandaged, but alive, my uncle Arthur Weasely was set down into the chair at the head of the table by Aunt Molly, a freakishly wide grin contorting her face. "Everything's well. Daddy's back." she said before kissing her husband on the cheek. Briar, the eleven year old boy that he was, grimaced and gagged. "Oh enough of that Briar." Scorned Aunt Molly.

Presents laid on the table, one or two in front of everyone, but Fred and George's gifts were jumbled. Aunt Molly would have to sort them out. "Oh, open your presents." Said my mother. I beamed at the blonde woman and carefully pulled away the tissue paper. Inside was a beautiful scarf knitted in red and gold stripes with pink roses knitted through it. It must have come from my mother. At our family Christmases the gifts were often left unlabeled so that the person who received it had to try and figure out who gave it.

I instantly draped my new scarf around my neck and said. "Thanks Mum, I love it." She beamed in reply. Most of my cousins and my siblings got scarves or sweaters. Ginny and Hermione were the only ones who got new hats.

My uncle tapped his glass lightly with his knife, sending a high-pitched ringing through the dining room. We all looked up at him in unison. He lifted his glass toward the boy with whom my fury waned. Ginny was none the wiser, and I was able to keep it that way. "A toast to Harry Potter, without whom I would not be here. To Harry."

We all lifted our glasses and toasted to the Boy-Who-Lived as one. "To Harry!" sounded throughout the ancient house. Sirius chimed in a second later. Harry looked at his Godfather and grinned. I looked away from the black haired boy and Hermione convinced me to let her try on my new scarf while I tried on her hat.

After the Christmas Supper was over I excused myself and got up from the table quietly, bringing a whole stack of plates with me. I donned an apron to keep my sweater from getting wet and took over dish washing duty. My mother offered to magic the mess away, but I declined, liking the work. I hoped the repetitive task would allow me to keep my mind off of a certain blonde Slytherin, but I couldn't help thinking about my former best friend. We had drifted so far apart over our time at Hogwarts, and when I thought that we might reconnect, he humiliated me in front of my closest friends. Was this what we were destined to be, two secretly broken people without any chance of healing? Most people didn't know all that I'd lost before my fifth birthday, and I knew that Draco had lost much.

Perhaps now I was ready to forgive Draco Malfoy for something that he had tried to make amends for. I didn't realized that I laughed in relief until my mother asked, "What's so funny dear?"

I laughed again, this time at her. "Nothing Mother. Just a thought."

The next morning I spent packing my trunk for the trip back to Hogwarts. I knew that I couldn't leave anything behind. It was becoming practically impossible to ship anything off to Hogwarts because of our D.A.D.A teacher. How I despised the horrid pink woman.

My mother knocked on my door as I was sitting on my trunk to make it close all the way. "Hi, Mum." I said sheepishly, not expecting her entrance.

"Have a good rest of your year Sweetheart. Keep the D.A. going strong, and keep an eye on Draco for us."

"Of course... Mum." I responded, a little puzzled. Why did they want me to keep an eye on the arrogant Malfoy heir all of the sudden? It was getting odd. My mother left and I dragged my trunk down to ground level.

I found Harry in a room that was devoid of furniture, but the expanse of wall was covered in a beautiful old tapestry. On it were all of the Blacks who ever lived. Many of them were burned away though, thought by one head or another to have disgraced the family in some way. Unfortunately, Sirius was one of them.

I'd looked for my family once, under Cassiopeia Black's portrait, but, oddly, most of my family tree, except my father and my siblings apart from me, had been completely burned away from floor to ceiling in what Sirius had explained was a house fire some years back. I didn't buy the story. Why would there be a house fire that only destroyed part of an old tapestry in a single room? The current head of the Black family was hiding something, but each time I pushed looking for answers he put up a wall between me and my goal. It was getting irritating.

I stood discreetly in the doorway as Sirius said to Harry, "Once all this is over, we'll be a proper family."

Since Sirius seemed to not have anything else on his mind, I chose that moment to cut in. "Harry, it's getting time to go."

He turned to me and said "Okay, give me a few more minutes will you?"

I sighed and headed back upstairs.

As I waited for Harry and the others to finish their goodbyes I stumbled upon a hallway that sat unused, evident by the dusty cobwebs draped on the gas lamps that lined the walls. The corridor had a door at each end, but one of the doors was nailed shut. Not even _Alohomora co_uld make it budge, not that I tried.

What interested me in the long room, and what kept me from retreating to the better lived in part of the ancient house, was a large portrait that hung alone on the wall. A beautiful woman with long dark hair twisted into a bun sat majestically on a centuries old velvet chair. Her dress was simple: brown with black pearls sewn along the neckline and cuffs. She read a book with eyes a shade of blue similar to Sirius's.

I looked at the engraved golden plaque below the painting. _Cassiopeia Black _stared at me in the faded light shining through the open door. The woman in the portrait was my Great Grandmother, and my blood connection to the Black family. She looked up at me when she saw that she had company. "Hello, dear. Who might you be?" she asked politely, shutting her book and laying it gingerly in her lap.

"I'm Rose Braddock ma'am." I answered her. I felt the urge to curtsy and acted accordingly. "I _think_ I'm your Great Granddaughter?"

"Well, you do appear to have some of my features. It is a pleasure to meet you Rose." She looked me over again. "With your looks I can tell that Black blood runs strong in your veins." I blushed at the complement. "And you are the first decent person I have spoken with in years."

"Thank you. Why haven't I ever seen you before?" I asked. "Surely there must be more paintings of you."

"I have one in the old family home, but I do believe it was placed into the attic before you were born. As for this house I've been kept in this hall for over fifteen years and not even old Kreature comes to visit me. If only Sirius would make a trip down here and move me into the parlor I would be quite satisfied."

"I might be able to persuade him." I told my Great Grandmother, grinning back at her.

She gazed at me longer. "You do look so much like your mother, my dear..." She was cut off when Sirius entered the room, halting my conversation with the woman in the portrait.

He strode over to us. "That is enough chatting for now. Go on Rose. Supper is on the table." He said, evicting me from the room. The door creaked loudly, so I couldn't make out what Sirius said to the portrait first, but I was able to catch a snippet of the conversation between them once I was in the main hallway. "I will put you in the attic."

As I glided down the many flights of stairs, I wondered. Why would Sirius want to stow my Great Grandmother away just for talking to me? What was he hiding?

The train ride was rather uneventful, but I was restless in our car. Finally, I couldn't stand stay still. I stood up and opened the door to our compartment. Harry stayed my hand. "Where are you going Rose?"

I looked at the curious student. "It's personal." I answered back, gliding through the door and closing it behind me. I knew that he immediately jumped up and opened the door to see where I was going, but by then I was long gone.

A car at the end of the train was where the fifth year Slytherins sat. I made my way to it. The door was closed, but I pulled it open and the majority of the Slytherins looked up to see who had entered their car. Most of them resumed what they were doing, sneering and grumbling at me though, when they realized that I wasn't from their house since I wore my new scarf.

I trekked to the end of the car, ignoring the stares and jeers from the students who were disgusted that a Gryfindor was in their car. Pansy and Blaize were seated so that they could look at me without having to turn; the blonde was seated across from them. "Hey." I said as confidently as I could.

"Hey Rose." greeted Blaize. Pansy nodded, but Draco looked away and out the window, refusing to meet my gaze. He must have still been mad at me.

I sucked in a breath, and plucked my courage. "Draco." He still refused to look at me. Pansy and Blaize tried to coax him away from the window, but he defiantly looked on. I sighed, deciding to just say what I needed to whether he was listening or not. "I forgive you." He shifted, but still looked out the window. Even though he tried to hide it I could still feel the remorse coming off of him. I handed a single gift to both Pansy and Blaize. I looked at Draco once more and laid the package containing a Slytherin-Crest embroidered green and silver scarf that I'd made for him on the table in front of him and said, "Merry Christmas, Draco Malfoy."

I walked back through the cars, but found myself not wanting to go back to my car. My housemates would question me relentlessly until I told them what I'd been doing. I found an empty car and sat alone with a small book that I'd taken with me along with the scarf. Thank the Gods that Harry had not seen its colors.

* * *

I saw Draco wear the scarf on a number of occasions while the air was still cold and the ground was hard and coated in white. At least he used it, even if he didn't appreciate it. I kept kicking myself for being so stubborn each subsequent time I saw him. Why hadn't I accepted his apology earlier? I was so stupid!

Once the snow was off the ground in mid March, we began to spend more time outside again, especially when Hagrid returned from his school-year long absence.

Hermione caught me on my way back from my tutoring with Madame Promfrey with Harry and Ron in toe. "Hagrid's back." She said calmly.

"Hagrid's back?" I said breathless. I didn't even wait for her to answer. I ran with my book bag with the others down the rough hill to Hagrid's octagonal hut. Harry for some reason had the Invisibility Cloak with him.

I shed my outer school robe as soon as we got into the warm hut. I petted Fang before I sat with my friends and Hagrid handed us each a cup of tea. "Where have you been Hagrid?" I asked as I sipped my tea.

He sat in his huge chair and looked uncomfortable. I bit my lip, thinking I'd asked too much.

"Dumbledore sent me to speak with the giants." he finally confessed.

"Giants?!" Hermione gasped.

Hagrid motioned for her to keep it down. "Trust me, we aren't the only ones trying to recruit them. The Death Eaters are trying to as well, promising them eternal freedom if they fight on their side."

"That's an empty promise." I pointed out.

Hagrid nodded. "I know, but what could I tell them,? The Death Eaters got there before I did."

"Were you able to get any to side with us?" Asked Harry.

"A few." Hagrid confirmed. "It appears that some of them remember some bit of kindness Dumbledore showed them at one point or another."

I heard footsteps after Hagrid finished talking. "Someone's coming." I rushed.

Hagrid looked out the window then turned back to us an instant later. His words were swift and to the point. "All of you, get over there, sit, and put the cloak on. Hurry." he pointed to a shaded alcove in his hut.

We were invisible by the time Hagrid reluctantly opened the door. We didn't need anyone to tell us who was here. The stench was unmistakable.

"For the last time, I demand to know where you've been." Squawked Umbridge.

"I told you, I've been away for me health." Hagrid explained, exasperated.

"Your health?" Asked Umbridge dubiously.

"Yes, you know, a bit of fresh air and all."

"Oh yes, as Gamekeeper, fresh air must be terribly hard to find." replied Umbridge. "If I were you, I wouldn't bother unpacking at all."

Hagrid closed the door on the woman and we got out from under the cloak. If only the cloak could grow. It was a tight fit with four teenagers shielded under it. I heard Umbridge spray her perfume before she left.

Hagrid strode to his dusty window. A storm was brewing outside, just at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Harry followed him a minute later. "There's a mighty big storm brewing out there, and you best all be ready when she does." He said, almost thinking out loud. I knew that he wasn't talking about the storm on the horizon.

* * *

I watched in disgust when Umbridge tried to dismiss Professor Tralawney. I'd wanted desperately to do something, but what could I do? I could only hope that Professor Dumbledore could resolve the issue. The outcome was that the Divination Professor stayed at Hogwarts, and Professor Umbridge wrote to the Minister demanding more power over the school.

The D.A. ran as usual, but I felt something was off the day that Harry and I were teaching the army the Patronus Charm. I sensed that Umbridge was closing in on us.

On that normal day at the end of April, we snuck quietly into the Room of Requirement letting no one see us, but, oddly, Cho was nowhere to be found. She must have been running late; not that I entirely missed her.

Harry instructed the students on the particulars of the Charm. "Think of the a memory, the happiest you can remember. Allow it to fill you up. Fred?"

My older cousin waved his wand and said, "Expecto Partonum!" letting white mist escape from his wand. As I helped Neville cast the spell, I heard a loud whinny behind me. I turned to see who had cast the equine Patronus.

Remarkably, Ginny was the one who cast the galloping horse. "Fantastic Ginny!" Harry and I cried.

I turned my attention back to Neville. I held his wand hand reassuringly. "Like this, point the wand in front of you and say 'Expecto Partonum.'" Since I _was _doing the action with my own wand, a white ferret flew out of my holly stick and started bouncing from one student to the other while a white mist finally emanated from Neville's wand. "Marvelous Neville." I said happily. He smiled at me.

Ron soon had a dog running around the room and tripping up students while Hermione discovered that her Patronus was an otter. Most of the students had conjured or half conjured full-bodied Patronuses by the time the world, and the glass wall, shattered.

Luna's rabbit evaporated as the walls and the chandelier shook as if the invisible door to the Room of Requirement was being hit with a battering ram. Moments later, the glass wall broke and cascaded to the floor in a million razor-sharp shards. A small gap in the masonry revealed itself and Harry and another peeked through. There was no mistaking the revolting voice that came from the other side of the wall. "I'll make short work of this. Bombarda Maxima." Instantly, the bricks blasted away. I helped Harry up off the floor and looked defiantly at Umbridge. "Get them. But give Potter and Braddock to me." She snapped.

It was then that I saw who had sniffed us out and betrayal boiled through my veins. Holding Cho firmly by her collar, platinum blonde hair meticulously combed out of his face and clad in silver and green with an Inquizitorial-Squad pin affixed to his chest, was Draco Malfoy.


	14. This school is run by a mad woman

**Chapter 14**

**Rose POV.**

Draco's gray orbs fell on me and his satisfied smirk softened slightly, a look of surprise and horror seeping through. He hadn't expected me to be there, much less be one of the two founders of the organization that he had been chasing down for who knows how long. I didn't care. This was the ultimate act of betrayal, and my gift burned to be let loose and retaliate against the blonde. I kept in check to the best of my ability, not letting anyone see the rose colored sparks that shot across my fingers. What he did at the beginning of the school year didn't even remotely compare to this. How could he do this to me? I thought we'd been friends.

I glared daggers at him as the members of the Inquisitorial Squad began rounding up students. He let Cho go and walked toward me. I was so furious that I wanted to slap him or hex him into oblivion, but I was so furious that I was frozen in place. I was involuntarily motionless long enough for Draco to come up behind me, take my wand that I had caught in a death grip from my hands, and force my hands behind my back before we were led out of the room. "I'm sorry." He whispered as he pushed me out of the room. I found out that the Minister of Magic was standing outside the blasted-out hole in the wall.

"I'm very disappointed in you Rose." He said sadly. Had I been any less angry I would have lowered my head in shame.

"I'm sorry Minister." I replied as evenly as I could, keeping my head defiantly up.

Draco pulled me to the back of the procession before it broke apart, taking the majority of the students to another part of the castle, probably the dungeons, while Harry – being dragged along by my cousin Percy, his work with the Ministry seemed to have turned him from a cousin that I liked to one who I now despised– and I were taken up to the Headmaster's office. This did not bode well for us.

I kicked Draco in the shin. He winced, but didn't go down. "You're sorry? How could you do this to me Draco? I thought we were friends. Or at least had been." I seethed quietly. None of the people in front of us heard anything. Umbridge was too busy yakking to the Minister about all that she'd found out about the "unacceptable practices" at the school.

"This is the only way." The Slytherin answered back quietly.

"The only way for what?!" I demanded, but he refused to say anything more.

I was forced up the eagle staircase that led to the Headmaster's office.

Umbridge kept squawking into the Minister's ear. "You see, I told you that there was something fishy going on here. I knew that all of his fear mongering was a smoke screen. Dumbledore has instigated this 'Army', in direct bid to take control of the Ministry."

Draco kept my hands secured and shied out of the way when I tried to kick him again. I was beyond furious.

The Headmaster was stoic. Harry spoke up then before Percy tugged on his collar to quiet him. "No, he had nothing to do with it, it was me." Harry was taking the fall so that the Headmaster would not be taken from the school. He knew how much we needed to keep professor Dumbledore in his position. He was the only one between Umbridge and her desire for complete Ministry control over the school. I had to help. It had been my idea in the first place.

"And me, Minister. It was my idea, and I run it with Harry." I added.

"Stay quiet Rose." Draco whispered in my ear. I glared at him.

"I thank you, Harry, Rose; for trying to take the fall for me, but if you'll notice Minister, as that paper clearly states, the organization is called Dumbledore's Army, not Potter's or Braddock's. I instructed them to create this organization, and I and I _alone_ am responsible for its activities."

"No, Professor." Harry spoke up again. I thought it wisest to stay quiet.

"Dispatch an owl to the Prophet at once; if we hurry, we can still make the Morning Edition. Dorrish, Shacklebolt, you are to escort Albus Dumbledore to Azkaban to await trial on charges of Conspiracy and..." The Minister started officially, taking command of the situation, or trying to. Even I could see that he was terrified of the Headmaster.

"Ah, I see that we've hit a little snag." Replied the Headmaster as he got out of his upholstered chair and moved to stand behind it to keep a set distance between himself and his accusers. "You seem to be laboring under the delusion that I am going to... what was the phrase? 'Come quietly?' Well I can tell you this, I have no intention of going to Azkaban."

"Enough of this!" spurted Umbridge. "Take him!"

The Headmaster winked at us, then the call of Fawks split the air as the Headmaster clapped his hands above his head and the instant that Fawks flew to his master, the room exploded with light and power, and all but Harry and I, strangely, collapsed as the Headmaster disappeared. When we regained our barrings, a small bit of light, all that was left where the Headmaster had been, winked out of existence with a loud zip as if Professor Dumbledore had torn the fabric of reality and walked through it.

Kingsley Shacklebolt stood and said – out of breath, "You may not like it Minister, but you can not deny, Dumbledore has got style." The Minister just looked at the dark-skinned man as if he'd grown another head.

After the Headmaster disappeared, the Minister said, breathless again, "Delores Umbridge, I hereby name you the Headmistress of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Umbridge beamed. "Thank you Minister." She said. My stomach twisted. I was feeling so many emotions towards so many people that I couldn't contain it all.

She moved towards the Headmaster's chair and sat gingerly in. An image of what this office would look like when she was through with it, nauseatingly pink with endless kitten plates, flashed through my mind. I could only hope that the staircase would not let her in after we were done in here. I was almost positive that our life was about to become a living nightmare.

She looked serene in that seat, and I noticed then that she wore a peculiar locket around her neck; a large, thick, elongated octagon with an S in the shape of a snake emblazoned on it. If I didn't know better, I'd think it was moving.

"Thank you Minister." The new Headmistress dismissed the Minister of Magic, and he stepped into the fireplace, disappearing in a plume of green flames. My cousin let go of Harry and followed the Minister back to the Ministry. Harry staggered, but glared daggers at Draco as he took hold of Harry's collar. "My first order of business," began Umbridge, her voice sickeningly sweet, "Is for all of your little friends and yourselves to be put through detention with the Blood-Quills you all love so much tomorrow after classes. Lead them away." she finished.

I paled, barely able to stay on my feet as Draco led us out of the room and down the stairs into one of the main corridors. "Don't think I won't be watching you, Rose." Draco whispered before he let us go. Finally fed up with him, I whipped around and slapped him across his perfect face, my hand leaving a cherry red mark on his pale cheek. The redness suited him; he should be slapped more often.

"How dare you?" He seethed, stumbling back and stroking his sore face. I didn't care if I'd made him angry, he deserved far worse.

"That is for all you've done to me." I snapped back as Harry looked on. He would probably be mad at me till next school year at least, but I would loath him for all eternity I was sure.

Harry and I helped each other up to the common-room and went straight to bed. I hoped Harry got a good night sleep. I sure as heck didn't. I tossed and turned in my bed for half the night while Hermione slept peacefully in her bed, not knowing what lay in store for her tomorrow. I was too terrified to tell her. What I worried about most was if I would be able to keep my gift contained during our detention. Since it seemed that what energy was used to heal or harm people other than myself was taken from me, it was very possible, with either thirty three or thirty four students being tortured with Blood-Quills tomorrow, that if my gift escaped it could kill me. That is what scared me the most; my relative inability to control the curse. I fell asleep with these thoughts bouncing around my head.

I woke up the next morning cold and weak, and couldn't bring myself to tell Hermione or any of my cousins for that matter what they had to endure. Harry told them. I felt guilty that I didn't have the courage or strength to tell them. I even felt that I was disgracing Gryfindor by being the exact opposite of what my house stood for.

My panic rose as Detention grew nearer, and when it finally arrived I could barely make myself fall into my chair I was so scared. Umbridge came up and passed out the dreaded quills while we looked at her furiously. The older students did at least; the younger students just looked at her as terrified as I was. Most had never even heard of a Blood-Quill. They'd been outlawed before they were born.

I expected her to say something like, "You will write I love Umbridge until there is no blood left in your body," but instead she said, after falling gracefully into her overgrown throne whilst wrapped in a fluffy pink housecoat, "You will write, 'I will not defy the Ministry,' until your papers are filled."

My breath caught. I knew what happened when you wrote a sentence more than once with a Blood-Quill; the words cut themselves deeper and deeper into your flesh, drawing ever more blood out of your body onto the paper. I knew now that my life literally depended on me keeping my shaky grip on my gift.

"You may begin."


	15. Heartless

**Chapter 15**

**Rose POV**

The castle turned from a school to a prison in four weeks time.

If we saw Filtch now he was in a fresh, clean suit taking down all of the endless paintings in the castle. The students were no longer allowed to wear their street clothes after school, and all visits to Hogsmede were stopped. Hagrid was relieved of his post, and Harry, Hermione, Ron and I agreed to look after his half brother Grawrp for him. All mail was stopped. All use of spells was prohibited in the hallways. Enchanted loudspeakers were constantly droning on her rules, including a reminder to join the Inquizitorial Squad if you wanted extra credit. I didn't see the point of it now. It had pretty much been made to catch the D.A.

Also a low point of this time was what was emblazoned on the front page of the Daily Prophet. Over a dozen high security prisoners, including, it turned out, the woman who had taken so much from me and my family, had escaped the isolation cells of Azkaban. This was even more shocking than when Sirius had escaped. In that case he'd escaped by changing into his canine form. These Death Eaters – the article didn't say it in so many words but all of the names it listed: Dolohov, Lastrange, Ruckwood, among others I knew were previous followers of the Dark Lord – had been broken out of prison with a blasting curse so powerful that it sent a good third of the upper levels of the prison into the churning sea judging by the picture included with the headline.

She'd escaped. I should have known that she'd come to finish what she'd failed to do all those years ago. My only question was... why? Why did she come after me in the first place? I was only four at the time; it's not like I'd killed her husband or something.

Our O.W.L exams crept nearer. I studied as much as I could while trying to keep all of the students that Umbridge tortured in good working order. I hoped that what I'd learned and perfected during my tenure with the D.A. would be enough to let me pass that area with an Exceeds Expectations. An Outstanding would be nice, but I thought that was a little far fetched for me to say the least. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Harry would achieve the distinction, that is unless Umbridge decided to play with the test scores. I wouldn't put it past her to give all of those in the D.A. low scores just so that we wouldn't have a chance at getting good jobs in the future.

I knew though that an Outstanding in Potions was exactly what I'd get, and that was one of the vital scores I needed. No matter how good I was with healing magic, I wanted to be an Auror.

The days of our O.W.L.s came. We had assigned seating, and I unfortunately had to sit right beside the blonde who had betrayed me and whom I'd punched hard in the face. Luckily, he didn't seem to like the arrangement any more than I did. I gritted my teeth and worked in silence as the timer clicked. I couldn't stand to be next to Draco Malfoy. If the seating hadn't been assigned I would have made sure to sit as far from him as possible. I was still very much livid at the boy who had once been my best friend. It would take much more than three months and an "I'm sorry" to allow me to forgive him this time. Actually, I was sure that only something such as him saving my life in some manner would make me even _consider _forgiving the meddlesome Slytherin.

I wrote my answers and performed the magic bit by bit, knowing by default that I had gotten every question right on the Potions portion of the test. Every subsequent subject I was less sure of; History of Magic though I was sure that I at least got an Acceptable. Unlike most of my classmates, I liked History of Magic. I just wished that the teacher Professor Binns, a ghost who had passed some hundred years before apparently, could make his subject a little more interesting for the other students.

As we were working on the end of the last section, Muggle Studies – I wasn't sure how I would fare on that one, I knew that Hermione and probably Harry would ace it since they grew up with Muggles; I, being a pureblood whose family absolutely did _not _want to be labeled as Blood-Traitors, didn't know as much as I desperately wanted to– several loud bangs, akin to those we heard when the D.A. was found out, resounded through the hall. The Headmistress, after they'd gone on for a minute or two, stood from her throne and walked the entire length of the hall to the massive doors. They were closed.

She opened them and peered outside. We all turned to watch her after we put our quills down. These thankfully did not write in our own blood. My wound again wasn't healing as fast as I'd hoped.

The banging sound stopped as soon as she opened the door. She looked to the left, then the right, then the left again. When nothing came she turned back to us, but then my twin cousins zoomed into the room on their brooms. With them came a multitude of expressive fireworks that instantly exploded.

All of my fellow students and I got out of our seats, our exams done, and enjoyed a bit of fun that we'd been denied these past few months. What was most enjoyable, for myself at least, was seeing a firework chase the startled form of Draco Malfoy till he was flat against a wall. He shied away right when the sparkler was about to explode in his face. In his place was a perfect burn impression of his ridiculous face made by the burning firecracker.

My cousins met towards the top of the Great Hall and George – or it may have been Fred, it was impossible to tell those two apart; even now – tossed an exceptionally large firecracker to his brother, who threw it into the air. It exploded in hundreds of sparks that soon converged into a giant Chinese Dragon that began to chase the fleeing Headmistress.

The Sorting Hat would have had to have been charmed if it had sorted that woman into Gryfindor. She was every bit the Slytherin she had been then; pure-blood, cowardly, cunning, and definitely power-hungry.

The Dragon continued to chase the terrified woman until she was out of the Great Hall, then the epic firework exploded into a thousand dancing sparks after its mouth had closed around the Headmistress. A second later we heard every single one of Umbridge's decrees fall to the floor in a shower of shattered glass.

We took our chance to bolt while she was in shock that all of her hard work had been in vain.

The twins left the school with a W shaped firework in their wake. We clapped as they left. Behind me, I heard Harry collapse to the cold, hard stone of the courtyard. I turned and watched Harry worriedly. He had told me that there was some sort of mind link between himself and Voldemort, but it was creepy to see it happening in action. I knew that that was the only thing that could put the look that Harry currently wore onto his agonized face.

I dropped to the ground in front of him, wishing there was something I could do to help him. Not even my gift could help him I knew, even if I could control it. I _was_ getting better. I'd kept it in check while we were all in detention, but I'd only succeeded by the skin of my teeth. I'd had to part myself from the pain and block out that of the others in the room. It was an uncomfortable, foreign process, but it worked.

Finally, after Hermione had joined me while Ron was still oblivious and enjoying his brothers' flamboyant display, Harry choked out one word. "Sirius."

"What about Sirius?" I asked urgently.

"Voldemort has him." he said as he got himself off the ground and raced into the castle.

I sucked in a breath, then pulled my cousin's sleeve, breaking his concentration and forcing him to come after us. "Where is he?"

"The Department of Mysteries." Harry rushed as he ran up one of the sets of stairs.

"What?!"

Harry began a rambling brokenly and it took me a second to figure out the context. "It's the same door I've been dreaming about for months but I couldn't remember where I'd seen it before. Sirius said, 'Voldemort was after something. Something he didn't have the last time,' and it's in the Department of Mysteries!"

I was struggling to keep up with him, both what he was saying and up the stairs. Harry was other worldly fast sometimes. Perhaps it had to do with Quidditch. "Harry, stop."

He turned to me with wild eyes, desperately wanting to continue up the stairs.

"What if Voldemort is just playing with your head? What if he wanted you to see this?" I asked, trying to stop him from doing something rash.

"So what if he is? I'm just supposed to let him die? Rose, he's the only family I've got left."

Harry raced up the stairs again. "How do you plan to get there?" Asked Ron.

"The Floo Network." Harry shot back.

Hermione countered him as he led us to the landing of the Defense-Against-the-Dark-Arts classroom. "Umbridge has all the fireplaces under surveillance."

"Not all of them." Harry rushed. We raced after him into the classroom. The office of which was serving as that of the Headmistress since Dumbledore's wasn't allowing her in just as I'd hoped. The door was locked, but a quick Alohamora made the old lock moot.

The office was still sickeningly pink.

Harry raced to the fireplace and threw the Floo Powder that rested on the mantle into it. The flame glowed green, the portal open. Harry would have been gone in that instant had Ron not pulled him out. "Ron."

"We're coming with you." Hermione cut in.

"No, it's too dangerous." Harry warned.

Hermione pulled him aside, forcing him to look at her. "When are you going to get this through your head? We're in this together."

The door behind us opened and the Headmistress barked. "That you are."

In a fright, I backed against the wall, my wand behind my back where she couldn't see it. I knew she would find it eventually, or if she didn't, someone else would. "Please, we weren't doing anything wrong!" I exclaimed. We weren't; unless the Ministry counted rescuing a wrongly accused escapee from the evilest man ever born. I couldn't believe that the Ministry still refused to acknowledge that Voldemort was back.

"If I've told you once I've told you a hundred times Ms. Braddock," Said the Headmistress, entering the room with the Inquizitorial Squad in toe. I glared at Draco, here to catch me again. If we hadn't had a history I would have hated him. His cold grey eyes laid on me and I looked away in disgust toward one of the Headmistress's numerous decorative kitten plates. "Naughty children deserve to be punished." She said through gritted teeth.

Something inside of me snapped in that instant. I'd had enough of Umbridge and her threats; I'd had enough of Draco Malfoy, I'd had enough period. She could do whatever she wanted with me, I just wanted her to let my friends go. "Do what you want with me: torture me with a Blood Quill; throw me in the dungeon; I don't care anymore. Just leave my friends out of this." I shot back defiantly, turning my head to look at the Headmistress but keeping Draco out of my line of sight.

"I will not tolerate that kind of rebellious attitude in my school."

"This is not your school. This school belongs to the parents who want their children to learn how to defend themselves from whatever is out there, because, believe it or not Headmistress, there are things out there, things that none of us can even imagine. And _Voldemort has returned_. I've seen the proof with my own two eyes."

"Liar!" She snapped. "How dare you try to undermine my authority as Headmistress of this school by spreading your filthy lies along with Potter."

"Undermine your authority?" I scoffed. My friends looked at me as if I'd gone mental. Perhaps I had, but I concluded that I was just being incredibly bold. "You have no business being the Headmistress of any school, let alone Hogwarts. You are a coward and an evil woman who cares for nothing but her own advancement and selfish gratification. The only person at the moment who is worthy to be the Headmaster of Hogwarts is Albus Dumbledore." I knew that I was being reckless. In actuality, my speech was probably the most reckless thing that I had ever done. I knew that I would pay for it, probably dearly, but I needed to get what I felt out of my system before I was expelled.

Her mouth hardened into a line as she listened to my criticism of her character. Out of the blue, her pudgy hand whipped out and slapped me hard across my cheek. It exploded with pain and my gift fought for freedom, but I turned away, my mouth a hard line. The Headmistress said furiously,"Malfoy, you appear to have a history with her. If she tries anything funny, don't hesitate to act."

I felt Draco approach me and I loosened my grip on my wand so that he could take it easily. There was no use in fighting anymore. We were going to lose and Sirius would die because we hadn't acted fast enough. When we were all bound to be expelled and black-listed for the rest of our lives, and probably the lives of our children too, what use was there in fighting?

The Prefect peeled my fingers from my wand and placed it gently on the table. The other members of the Inquisitorial Squad did the same with their captives.

Umbridge sent out the rest of her cronies to round up the D.A., and before long thirteen or so of us were packed into Umbridge's office. She interrogated Harry, and would have used Veritaserum if she hadn't used it all on other students, but when she attempted to use the Cruciatus Curse on Harry Hermione spoke up, going on about Dumbledore's Secret Weapon, whatever that meant.

After Harry, Hermione, and Umbridge left to go after the weapon, our captors stood idly by and chatted amongst themselves but forbade us to do the same. I relentlessly tried to kick, punch, jab, or otherwise hurt my captor, but it wasn't working, and his smug smile remained. Eventually I just looked away from him and crossed my arms defiantly.

After Harry, Hermione, and the Headmistress had been gone for quite a while one of the Slytherins asked, "I'm hungry, are there any sweets in here?"

Ron beamed. "Well, yes. I believe that she keeps some in the top drawer of her desk."

As the boy rummaged through the drawer I whispered urgently, "What are you doing?"

"Wait, Rosie," he said quietly so that his captor, a Slytherin I didn't know, wouldn't hear. The Slytherin pulled out a heart-shaped box of chocolates, the one that I knew Fred and George had planted for Filtch before the D.A. was discovered. I finally understood; Ron was attempting to trick the Slytherins into eating the Fever Fudge – or whatever my genius cousins had named them – and give us enough time to escape while they were dealing with the results of their stupidity; Umbridge didn't eat sweets, her sweet tooth was satisfied with ultra-sweetened tea with lots of milk.

I slyly grinned at my cousin and waited. The boy put the box on the desk and opened it, revealing three-quarters of a box of harmless-looking chocolates. "Ooh," he murmured, reaching in and plucking out one. Like moths to a light the rest of the Inquisitorial Squad swarmed around the candy. Filtch tried to warn them but of course the members of noble Slytherin House would never take advice from a Squib. The only Slytherin who did not partake was Draco, who kept constant vigil by my furious side.

Before long, the small red bumps caused by the developing boils were showing up on the faces of the Slytherins who'd eaten the chocolates. The students cursed their luck and tried to figure out a way to get rid of their affliction, but when the boils began to rupture they all promptly headed out of the room to the Hospital Wing. Draco, naturally, was the only one who didn't.

The Inquisitorial Squad left the room and Ron peaked out the door as their footsteps faded off into the distance. The rest of the D.A. retrieved their wands after my cousin sounded the all-clear. Draco smirked at him, his wand tip pressed threateningly against my throat. Draco's arrogance astonished me. Did he really think he stood a chance against _eleven? _One, maybe; me, probably; but eleven; that was a fools-errand. Ron turned to the Slytherin and barked, "Drop the act Malfoy."

Draco stood firm and pressed his wand ever deeper into my throat. My pulse quickened as the pin-point pressure began to interfere with my breathing, but I suspected that something else was attributing to it. He started to say something to my cousin, but before he could get anything out I took the chance to take his wand out of his grasp and got myself out of my vulnerable position. He was now like a deer preyed on by a pack of wolves. Disarmed and alone, surrounded by people who erred on the side of disliking him at best, he didn't stand a chance. Like all cowards, he caved under the pressure.

Reluctantly – he didn't let it show to the masses, but I could see it in his eyes – he stood stoic while the D.A. grabbed their wands and filed out of the room.

I grabbed my wand off of the desk and turned to follow, still holding Draco's wand in my hand, when I realized that I was alone with Draco and I turned to look at him; not knowing why. My anger rose when I saw the smug grin on his face. He probably thought that he would be hailed when Umbridge returned as the only one who hadn't fallen for the trick, or he hoped that he could at least hold onto one of the students that Umbridge disliked the most. "I told you that I'd be watching you." he recalled, a steel edge to his voice. His eyes were cold, his tone icy.

I almost felt the temperature drop in the room as he stared at me, and my resolve wavered as my eyes stayed locked onto his forbidding orbs. I gathered up my courage and knew I would to tell my childhood friend the things that I needed to say, but it would hurt me to say them far more than I thought they would him, even if they did pierce through his thick skull. I locked my emerald eyes onto his gray, set my jaw firmly, and replied, "Did my slap teach you anything? You think that you can do no wrong, that everyone should just lay themselves down at your feet. You treat _me_ like I'm worthless to you. You've treated me like our time before Hogwarts... I... I trusted you Draco, I trusted you with my life and tried to turn the other cheek last year because I cared about you, and then you throw that all away for what?" I didn't realize until then that I was sobbing almost hysterically. I looked down at my hands. They were empty aside from my own wand. He must have taken his back while I was absorbed in my tirade. I didn't try to take it back from him. Instead I wiped the tears gushing from my eyes and continued, finally gathering the courage to say what he did not want, but needed to hear. "You... you are heartless, Draco Malfoy... and a coward." I cried, my resolve gone, turned on my heel and ran out of the room.

* * *

Harry took the smoky orb in his trembling hand. Indistinct whispering emanated from the small sphere as Harry watched and seemed to understand what was coming from the ball. I watched Harry intently, trying to make out what the words were, something about "neither lives or survives," or something like that.

"Harry!" Neville called, his voice cracking and filled with fear. We whipped around to see a figure clothed in black with a gruesome silver mask hiding his face. Even though I didn't know _who _the figure was, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the figure was a Death-Eater. In the isles of the Prophecy Room materialized more of the followers of Lord Voldemort. I realized that we were being corralled. If the Dark Lord was here, which he assuredly was given the presence of his followers, then... where was Sirius?

"Where is Sirius?" demanded Harry, still holding the Prophecy in his iron grip. He held his wand firmly, the light glowing from the end of it illuminating our part of the room, and, more importantly, the Death-Eater in front of us.

"You saw what the Dark Lord..." The first Death-Eater spoke and I paled. I knew that voice, I knew it all too well. We'd thought he'd changed. Please be an illusion. Please be an illusion. _**Please be an illusion! **_If it was not an illusion like I'd hoped, then that meant that a man I looked up to as a father figure had completely betrayed my family. My father would be devastated. Lucius Malfoy was his closest friend, and he'd been like a father to me, a strict father who kept his pure-blood ideals much closer to his heart than my family did, but a father none the less. As he pulled away his mask with a flick of his wand, my fears were realized as Lucius Malfoy's aristocratic face appeared from the darkness. "...wanted you to see."

Instead of the betrayal that I should have felt on account of two thirds of the Malfoy family betraying me and mine in the span of a month, all that I felt was extreme sadness. The man who was as close to me as a father Death-Eater, a distinction that he had told my parents time and again he did not have. His son had insulted and betrayed me numerous times at school, proving to me that he was nothing more than a bully and a coward. The only one whom I knew had not betrayed me was Narcissa, and I fervently hoped for it to stay that way.

As my gift fed off of the strong emotions coursing through my body at this moment, I struggled to keep it under wraps. This was just about the worst possible time for it to show itself. I couldn't even imagine what would happen if Voldemort found out about it.

I sobbed inwardly as Harry snapped, "Do anything and I'll break it." He was referring to the Prophecy I assumed. I wondered absently if the Prophecy was the "weapon" Sirius had referred to at the start of the year.

Another voice soon came into play. It sounded vaguely familiar, as if I had heard it long ago. Oddly, a memory that I thought I'd lost ages ago shoved itself into the forefront of my mind. It was one of the most painful memories that I possessed, one that the Dementors had fed off of during third year when I was attacked while sitting with Draco on the train. The memory was from the moment I lost her, and the moment I was able to see the thestrals that brought us here.

The voice was sing-song and so demented that I knew its owner was completely insane the instant she opened her mouth. Her hair was black and frizzy with a white streak along one side. She had been beautiful once, but eleven years in Azkaban had taken their toll. Bellatrix Lestrange, the woman who had taken so much from me and my family, was standing not six feet from me, and there was nothing I could do about it without frying my friends and I and giving my traitorous father-figure a prophecy that Lord Voldemort desperately seemed to covet.

"Harry knows how to play! Itty, pretty, baby." As she spoke she tore off her mask. The sight of her face thrust another memory from that night into my mind: watching Bellatrix, younger and prettier, inching toward me as I sat terrified in my closet with the door just barely cracked open.

"Bellatrix Lestrange,' said Neville, his voice and wand trembling. Hearing her name caused my fury to peak like it never had before, but I couldn't force out what I wanted to say at that moment; something... my sheer anger maybe?... was holding me back.

"Longbottom is it? How's Mom and Dad?" she mocked.

He worked up his courage and thrust his wand out in her direction. "Much better now that they are about to be avenged!" he rushed, provoking the insane witch.

She simply laughed maniacally until I emerged from the shadows at the rear of the group. Lucius Malfoy blinked in surprise. It seemed that he didn't know or think that I'd be here. His sister-in-law's laughter died as she looked at me in wonder. She stepped back her skin turning white as if she'd seen a ghost. "Well well well, look who we have here." she finally said in that same demented way after she regained her composure.

I stepped toward her, my wand at the ready, my gift itching to be let loose on the witch. "Yes Bellatrix. I'm still here. Even after all these years. Even after you killed my sister. Do you remember Lily? The eleven year old who threw herself in front of the closet I hiding was in so that you couldn't kill me? I was _four_, and I still remember every second of it!" I shouted. I didn't realize until then that my friends were looking at me. They were all looking at me. I'd never told them that I'd had an older sister; the subject and memories were far too painful to discuss. I'd wanted to tell them, to get it off of my chest, but my own grief held me back.

"Yes, well it appears that I'll just have to finish what I started then won't I?" she answered menacingly. I stepped back, frightened by the insanity in her eyes.

She raised her wand, the Killing Curse surely on her tongue, when Harry ordered, "Now!" We all raised our wands, and the battle began.

We had battled them in the Prophecy Room, putting what we'd learned and perfected in the D.A. to good use, while inadvertently causing an avalanche of prophecy-orbs to tumble around us, leaving the door we'd come in at as the only way out. However, instead of leading us out of the Department of Mysteries as we'd assumed, we landed in a rocky room containing nothing but a stone arch with a strange, fluid, paper-thin veil suspended within it. Interestingly, only Luna, Harry, and I seemed to actually be able to _see_ the veil. The others just saw an empty archway. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that we were the only three who had seen death. Shortly there after the our enemies reappeared silently and captured all of us but Harry, leaving him alone with Mr. Malfoy while the rest of us were tucked against the wall with wands at our throats.

Mr. Malfoy also held Harry at wand point. I felt so ashamed of him. I thought that he would never let anything harm me; Narcissa certainly wouldn't if it was within her power. She'd told me more than once over the decade or so that I'd known her that I was like the daughter she never had but always wanted.

He spoke then, his voice smooth and full of force, but also soft and aristocratic. "You can either give me the Prophecy now and leave this place with you and your friends unharmed, or you can watch your friends... die."


	16. Battle at the Ministry

**Ch 16 (Edited 8/8/15)  
**

Away from London, one other student was absent from Hogwarts that night besides the dozen off to fight at the Ministry. A pale youth, his white-blonde hair blowing in the wind while flying on his prized Nimbus 2001, flew as fast as his broom would allow across lower Scotland and England until he finally sighted his destination, a manor that he knew as well as his own. The manor was nearly identical to his home, built in the style of the time, and rested on a hill that often saw rain but also sported a marvelous view of the English countryside. Malfoy Manor was even visible in the distance.

When Draco Malfoy sighted the Braddock estate he pushed his broom to go even faster. He needed to warn the Order of the trap. Even though it was a secret organization, he had eavesdropped on Weasely and Granger talking about it when he hid in one of his secret alcoves, and he learned that Rose's parents were part of it. He hadn't known how he could use the information to his advantage at the time, but now he was so grateful that he had it. In his mind he may be the only thing standing in the way of Rose's life and her death by his own father or aunt.

He finally touched down in the courtyard of the Braddock Family Estate and rushed to the door, pounding frantically on it. He hoped from the bottom of his heart that someone was home. An eternity had passed before anyone answered the door. Finally, the door opened a crack and Draco Malfoy looked down, seeing no one at eye level on the other side.

Mazis, the old house elf who had served the Braddock's for generations, opened the door more when she recognized the youth outside. "Draco Malfoy, what brings you here?" Mazis may not have been educated, but she did know that the school-year had another month or so before the students were let out for the summer.

Draco wasted no time. "I need to speak with Mr. Hawthorn right away. Rose's life depends on it." No sooner had Draco uttered those words then the house elf pulled him inside and disappeared, searching for the master of the house.

Draco sat in a chair in the foyer and wrung his hands anxiously, playing the ten second scene with Rose in the Headmistress's office over and over in his jumbled head while waiting for her father. "You... you are heartless, Draco Malfoy... and a coward." He winced as he replayed what she'd told him for the hundredth time, sobbing the words as she tried to contain all of the emotions coursing through her. He was startled by how hard seeing her cry had hit him. The words she'd sobbed before she left bit far deeper than the slap he'd received the month before. Her words plainly revealed to him exactly what she thought he was, and what she had pointed out was exactly what he did not want to be.

He did not want to be a coward; cowards run in the face of danger and always try to save their own skins before others. He wasn't like that, he knew that he wasn't; and he was far from heartless. He loved his mother more than almost anything, and loved his father nearly as, but now Draco's trust in him was waning since he was putting his son's friend in grave danger.

Thinking it over, he slowly began to see the painful truth: Rose was right. He had run from every confrontation in one way or another, deciding to save himself from personal or emotional trauma instead of doing what was right, and he had never lent a finger to someone else if it did not directly and greatly benefit him. He also realized that he truly was heartless. Granted, he did love his parents, but he now saw that he cared not for the feelings of others and felt that his presence alone should rectify even the most severe of grievances.

He now understood why Rose had acted the way she had over the entire school year. It truly was his fault when he had insulted her on the train. Treating her friendship and loyalty as eternal, he'd abused it; thinking that no matter what he did to her she would always stay by his side. He was realizing that that wasn't true. She was blooming into a strong, brave, independent young woman right before his eyes who deserved to be treated far better than he had been treating her. She was growing into her name; a beautiful rose that had its share of thorns. She'd had the courage to forgive him while on the train back to Hogwarts from Christmas break, and he had betrayed her, thrown her forgiveness away like refuse. She was every bit the brave, compassionate Gryfindor the Sorting Hat had told her she was, and he was every bit a selfish, cowardly Slytherin. She'd run from him in the Headmistress's office and left something behind besides a few tears; her trust in him.

He had digested this revelation while trying to get out of Hogwarts undetected and then fly to the Braddock Manor, but it was only now while he waited for one of the only Order members that he knew and could save her that he realized the most important thing. How could he have done that to her?

After all that time, he finally admitted that he was the one at fault all along, even all the way back to when the Golden Trio began to take her away from him in their third year. The Golden Trio, no matter how much he disliked the lot of them, treated her the way she deserved, whereas he increasingly had failed to do so. It was all his fault, and because he had refused to come to grips with his own arrogance he had lost her trust to the point where if he had thrown aside his arrogance and thought to warn her of the trap that he was sure she'd fallen into by now, she wouldn't have believed him.

Just as Draco was thinking this over, Hawthorn Braddock entered the room with Emma in toe. "Draco, what's happened to Rosie? You said her life is in danger."

Draco plucked up courage that he didn't know that he had to speak to them. It would have been so much easier to leave and go on with life as usual, but he decided that he wanted to change, if not for himself then for her, and he had to start somewhere. "Rose... and the rest... of her friends... are walking into a trap at the Ministry. The Dark Lord is tricking Potter into getting something for him. I don't know what." He felt it wisest to keep out the fact his father and aunt were there to force Potter to do the Dark Lord's bidding. He knew that his father and Hawthorn were very close, and he knew that his aunt had some sort of history with the Braddocks based off of what he'd gleaned from various conversations. He didn't want the parents of the girl who had once been his best friend to do anything rash or reckless and possibly put her in more danger.

It puzzled him that he was suddenly worrying so much about her. She had slapped him for crying out loud, made it clear that she wanted nothing to do with and felt betrayed by him, and yet he was walking from the frying pan into the fire to rescue her. Perhaps he wanted to show her that he could be better. Perhaps he just wanted to finally help his old friend in her hour of need as he'd failed to do so many times. He didn't know, but he decided that it wasn't important whether he knew or not, he just needed to get to Rose before his aunt did.

Breaking Draco out of his thoughts, Emma Braddock gasped, shocked that her daughter was one moment safe at school and the next have her life hang in the balance. "A... a trap? We... we have to alert the Order." She finally forced out after she got her brain to once again work right.

Before the Braddocks could apparate out of their lavish estate leaving Draco hanging he asked, "May I come with you? I need to make up for what I've done to Rose." The request hung in the air as the adults deliberated. They decided to grant his request, but were suspicious of his sudden change of character. They even began to wonder if there was something else going on between their daughter and her childhood friend. They had only known boys to act this way when they _really_ cared about a girl; more than just a casual friendship.

By way of Sidealong-Appartition they headed to the Order. Draco tagged along with Hawthorn while Emma left moments earlier to make sure that Draco never found out where Headquarters was located. She cast a spell to completely black out the windows of the house, making seeing what was outside impossible.

The red-haired man and the blonde youth appeared in the center of the meeting room of the Order. The members in the meeting including Albus Dumbledore, explaining where he'd gone after his disappearing act, froze. Sensitive conversations ended mid word. Molly Weasely dropped the bowls that she was cleaning up, ceramic shattering on the floor and spraying the shoes of those members unfortunate enough to be standing or sitting near her.

Draco felt the atmosphere of the room grow heavy as the feeling of being unwelcome hung in the air. He didn't like it.

"Emma..." Molly breathed, believing that her sister had betrayed the Order purposefully.

Draco, seeing that a disastrous confrontation was eminent if he didn't do something about it, shouted uncharacteristically, "Rose is in danger."

A small number of at the table gasped quietly, including Rose's Godfather. He stood up, thinking, while Molly looked away from her sister and to Hawthorn, refusing to look towards Draco – believing that he could not be trusted. "Is it true?"

Again, Draco spoke up, realizing that he'd forgotten to mention a vital piece of the puzzle. "They're falling into a trap at the Ministry. They believe that the Dark Lord has kidnapped Sirius Black."

"Harry." Breathed the man whom the D.A. were trying in vain to save. It was clear to Draco that Sirius would do anything for his godson, and hopefully Rose by association.

Draco knew that a substantial number of Death-Eaters were, and probably had by this point, ambushing the students, and he knew that he could never fight them off alone. He needed the help of the most unlikely of allies. There was no one whom he knew would believe him or help him save the He had to convince the Order to believe him, or Rose would die. "Don't you understand? If we don't go there now they're going to kill h... them." He sounded like a desperate man, but tried to keep his concern for just Rose out of it. He knew that he needed to learn to care about people other than himself or his friends.

The Order listened to his explanation. Not all of them were immediately won over by the blonde. "How do you know of this 'trap'?" Asked Tonks, showing her distrust of her cousin.

"I eavesdropped on a conversation over Christmas. I'll tell you the particulars later if you really want an explanation but we need to get there now." He pushed. The clock was ticking for his old friend, and all of this dawdling was potentially shortening her lifespan. He knew that his aunt would have no sympathy for Rose even though she was, or at least had been, Draco's friend.

The Order brought Hawthorn and Emma into the room and pushed Draco out into the sitting room, apparently debating what he had told them. He sat on the couch and once again occupied his mind with thoughts of Rose Braddock and his foolish betrayal. They would sting him like angry hornets for months if he couldn't see Rose again and explain things to her.

He sighted the piano and imagined her playing the Swan Lake Suite – her favorite piece – or maybe Claire de lune, another one of her favorites. She played the piano beautifully, and wished to also learn the violin and the harp at some point in her life. He loved to listen to her play, and the piano in his house had often felt the touch of her soft fingers. Draco sighed somberly at the irony; even if they got to her in time, he doubted that he would ever hear her play again.

His Head of House appeared after Draco had grown anxious at the amount of time it was taking for the Order to decide to act. He pulled Draco aside and offered him a proposition thought up by the Order to occupy him while the Order convened When everything was taken care of, Draco held onto Snape's arm and they apparated to Ministry; not a moment too soon.

_**PAGE-BREAK**_

I watched Harry mull over all of his options and eye Mr. Malfoy's outstretched hand warily. Several of the Death-Eaters tightened their grips on their captives to try and sway Harry to decided in their favor. I silently wished that Harry would keep the orb out of Lucius's hands, but I knew that was folly. Harry would do anything, including handing a highly prized prophecy over to his nemesis, to save his friends.

"The clock is ticking Mr. Potter." Mr. Malfoy reminded Harry. Reluctantly, Harry lifted the hand that held the Prophecy and gently laid the orb in the outstretched hand of his rival's father. Lucius closed his eyes and sighed with satisfaction, seemingly trying to listen to the words of the Prophecy. The Death-Eaters who held us captive made no move to release us, and I knew that they would sooner kill us all before they would let us go.

Suddenly, a strange white light appeared directly in front of Lucius so bright that it momentarily blinded me. I had to turn away as much as I was able and close my eyes to shield them. When I reopened my eyes after the piercing light faded, the real Sirius Black was standing in front of Lucius Malfoy. "Step away from my Godson." He said calmly, giving the elder Malfoy a well-deserved punch in the face – like father like son, I supposed. Watching as other lights materialized in the room, I saw that one in particular whizzed around the room like a runaway yo-yo, dispelling the Death-Eaters that surrounded us.

Other members of the Order appeared as the lights faded and a barrage of spells shot across the room, illuminating it with an ever-changing rainbow of magic. After a minute of watching the lights appear and spells aimlessly fly across the room, I finally saw who it was who freed us from the Death-Eater's grip; my mother appeared from the orbiting light and instantly fought Bellatrix to protect me and avenge my sister after all these years. Never underestimate a mother bear when her cub's in danger.

I pulled away from the wall I was pressed against and shot a spell toward Bellatrix to give my mother a helping hand. Immediately afterward I ducked behind one of the few boulders that gave sufficient cover as a curse was cast my way. It exploded against the rock in a shower of silver sparks. I shot a retaliatory hex over the rock in the general direction of the spell-caster before I ran out from behind my cover to afford myself a better shot at Bellatrix.

Unfortunately before I could send my hex I saw that another curse, this one the bright green shade of the Killing Curse, was sailing straight toward me as I stood in the open. I froze in an instant, terror locking me in place as it always did, knowing that my body's involuntary reaction was spelling the end for me. Even if I tried there was no way that I could move under my own power, and I was about to die. I didn't know who cast it, I didn't know if it was even meant for me, but I knew that in two seconds I was going to die and there wasn't a darn thing I could do about it.

Suddenly, something grabbed my arm and pulled me behind another big rock. The curse I had been powerless to avoid of my own volition whizzed a hairsbreadth past my ear. I turned to find out who my savior was and thank him or her but froze for the second time in two seconds, unable to think, to act, barely able to internalize that the person who had just saved my life was the boy who had betrayed me so many times in just one year. When I figured out how to work my tongue my words were broken, rushed and I was confused, but my voice was laced with venom. "You...Order...What...How..._Why?_"

Draco was obviously taken aback. He was probably thinking, _I'm saving your life and you talk to me like that? _I glowered at him, waiting for a worthy answer. Aggravatingly he replied, "I'll explain later. I have to get you out of here first."

I lowered my eyebrows at him. His answer wasn't even in the ball park of good enough, and certainly not good enough to make me take his lead. "No, Draco, I'm not going anywhere, and certainly not with you." I snapped back defiantly, raising my head to see over the rock to send out a quick hex before he pulled me back down to safety.

"Stop being stubborn Rose." Draco chastised me, trying to pull me out of the fray for, presumably, my own safety. He was crazy if he thought that I would let my parents fight alone.

"No." I shot at him, pulling away and jumping out from behind the rock and out of Draco's reach. I saw that my mother had since given up on Bellatrix, owing to the fact that she was nowhere to be found at the moment, and had joined my father as he dueled his oldest friend.

"Lucius you traitor! You endangered my daughter. You promised me that you'd protect her!" My father bellowed as he shot curse after curse at the man whom he'd known since childhood. They were dueling right in front of the veil, throwing spells back and forth and dodging them equally.

"Promises were made to be broken, Hawthorn! She wasn't supposed to be here!" Lucius shot back, sending an Imperius towards my father. He dodged and sent a Stupify toward Lucius. My father's spell hit its mark and Lucius flew back and landed hard on the slope, incapacitated.

As I watched my savior's father spin through the air, out of the corner of my eye I saw the missing witch show up on a boulder and before I could scream "Mom, Dad, watch out!" she thrust her wand towards them and shouted "Avada Kadavra!" with deadly accuracy. Her wand was angled in such a way that the deadly streak of green light shot across the room and hit them as my father defended my mother. Their eyes widened in shock as the curse hit them, and they looked towards me one last time before they tumbled backwards into the veil, their hands linked, and evaporated into nothingness. I stopped, aghast at what I'd just witnessed. The witch who had killed my sister over a decade ago had just ripped my beloved parents away from me too. Because of her, my parents were now lost to me forever.

"No!" I screamed too late. I was always too late. As the monster cackled triumphantly and retreated into the shadows, I writhed in fury and pain as Draco held onto me, keeping me from chasing after the witch who made had orphans out of me and my siblings.

My gift broke free of me, my intense emotions giving it fuel. It broke from me in a wave, flooding the room at blazing speed. Everyone besides Harry crashed to the ground, members of the Order, Dumbledore's Army, and Death-Eaters alike. Draco grunted as the shock wave shot through him but did not collapse with the others. Whether that was due to his own will-power or his holding onto me I couldn't be sure. Now everyone knew about my gift; not good.

I didn't feel the drain that I usually felt when my gift was released. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that this was driven by extreme pain. Bellatrix cackled in the shadows, triumphant. My vision turned red and I leapt up, clawing myself out of Draco's grasp to avenge my parents. I chased after the witch, throwing a barrage of spells that I'd never dared t use. She dodged them all and cackled as she did. I pushed myself harder, ferociously chasing after her. I sent a Crucio her way, charged with all of the fury and pain contained inside me. She couldn't dodge this one and fell to the ground whimpering.

I caught up to the downed witch and pointed my wand at her head, a far darker curse on my tongue. My parents would be avenged, even if I destroyed myself in the process.

"That's not fair." I heard a man say in front of me. I gasped as I looked up and Bellatrix looked behind her, grinning maniacally.

"You..." I forced out, pointing my wand at Voldemort, the hazel stick shaking in my grasp.

"She is not for you to kill." he told me. "You are just in the way." He raised his bone colored wand at me, and I froze in fear once again, like I always did.

"_Rosy!_"

"Rose!"

I was knocked out of the way as the curse shot past me and shattered the window panes. Draco kept me pinned to the ground as Harry engaged Voldemort. If I'd had more energy I would have protested, but with the adrenaline finally wearing off, I felt the full drain of magic from my gift and passed out cold.


	17. Answers

**Ch 17**

"Oh, my head." I moaned as I sat up, rubbing the back of my throbbing skull. I swooned, the blood rushing to my head from sitting up too quickly. I fought to stay upright as my eyes struggled to focus and muffled voices began to break through.

"She's waking up."

"Oh thank goodness."

"Do you think she remembers what happened, Madame Pomfrey?" Asked who sounded like Harry. He seemed to be a few feet to the left of and in front of me.

"It's too early to tell." Madame Pomfrey answered back.

My vision was clouded, and the light in whatever room I was in blinded me until everything was a uniform white. If I hadn't heard all of these familiar voices, I would have questioned whether or not I was even still alive.

"Remember what?" I drawled. As I sat up fully and the excess blood drained from my head my vision cleared somewhat and I realized that I was back at Hogwarts. I was in the Hospital Wing on one of the patient cots. What was I doing here? The last thing that I remembered was seeing my mother appear out of a bright light right after Harry gave the Prophecy to Draco's father. Oh no. Did he still have it, or had he given it to Lord Voldemort already? "The Prophecy?!" I shouted, my pulse accelerating in panic, sending another wave of throbbing to my head. If Lord Voldemort had what was in that Prophecy, _what he didn't have the last time,_ trying to fight him would certainly lean towards a losing war.

"Destroyed." Said someone. I focused on the voice, but I couldn't quite tell if it was that of our Headmaster or if it was Harry's. My hearing was still very fuzzy and ringing excruciatingly. I could see more or less clearly though, with widening tunnel-vision.

As my vision cleared, I began to see everyone who occupied the room. Directly in front of me, sitting on the foot of the bed, were the Twins, and Ron on the left side.

In the aisle stood the Headmaster, obviously returned to the school somehow, next to Professor McGonnagal and Professor Snape, looking as uninterested as ever but I hoped that it was just an act. He was now among the only family I had left. I saw the semblance of a stooped figure behind them but I couldn't make out who it was.

I turned my head sluggishly to the right and saw that my second-year sisters sat on the edge of my bed with Ginny in a seat next to me. After I registered them I turned my head the other direction and saw Harry and Hermione standing by me, worry and astonishment flooding Hermione's gaze as it fell on me. "Are you feeling alright?" she asked, distressed for some reason unbeknownst to me.

"Yeah, I'm fine... except that I have a massive headache." I scanned the room again. "Where are my parents? If all of you are here then they should be too, right?" I said uneasily. Everyone looked away from me to silently converse. I really hated it when people did that. I felt so left out. The expressions on their faces are what signaled to me that something big had happened. They wore various masks of sadness and mourning. "Where are my parents?" I asked again, a little harsher than I intended, but I was growing anxious.

Finally, Ron spoke, his voice much too calm. "Do you remember what happened?"

Why was everyone being so cryptic all of the sudden? "What do you mean 'Do I remember what happened?' Where are my parents?!" I demanded angrily. Why wasn't anyone listening to me? My parents had been helping us... My eyes widened in worry as I back-tracked. "Wait. Why are we here? We were just at the Ministry," I murmured.

Everyone in the room looked away from me again. My pulse rate quickened again as the tension in the room thickened. Panic rose as the silence lingered. "What happened to my parents?" I asked in a small, quiet voice.

That seemed to crack them. "Rose," said Hermione, sitting down on the edge of the bed and taking my hand. "Your parents are gone."

The words failed to penetrate. Gone? What did she mean gone? My parents could never have died unless...

"What do you mean _gone?_" I asked my house mate. Once again the room fell silent for a long moment.

The silence was broken when the figure that I hadn't recognized stood up and made himself visible. "My aunt killed them," Draco said solemnly, his head lowered in regret and shame.

"Bellatrix?!" I breathed in disbelief. As Draco nodded, my amnesia lifted and all of the memories from that night flooded my mind, giving me a full play by play – plus the crucial moment in slow-motion – of the second I lost my parents to death and Bellatrix Lastrange. Tears welled and I leaned onto Hermione's shoulder, desperately needing a shoulder to cry on whether she was willing or not. I sobbed for many minutes as the air grew heavy with grief and I heard someone leave the room.

When the tears began to subside I stared at the people in the room and realized that Draco was the one who'd left. I didn't particularly miss him at the moment, even if he had saved my life. I couldn't sort through the situation at the present. I had more pressing issues. "How long have I been out?" I asked softly, occasionally sniffling.

"Three days." Violet answered quickly. "We haven't left your side since they carried you in."

Satisfied, I asked another. "What happened after I blacked out?" The people in the room were hesitant to answer.

"Well, after you passed out we all rushed out to help Harry, but by then Professor Dumbledore was fighting You-Know-Who. The Minister showed up during the fighting and acknowledged that the You-Know-Who was back, and then we were all shipped back here." Hermione explained.

I was still puzzled about one thing but Ginny cut in and answered it for me. "Right before you collapsed, there was a pulse or something, and it seemed to come from you."

I groaned. I'd been afraid of that.

I thought back to what Harry had said after our first detention with Umbridge.

"_You'll have to tell them sooner or later."_

_I defiantly answered back, "No, I won't." _

It appeared that Harry had been right after all. He usually was.

I took a deep breath, preparing to let the cat out of the bag, but Madame Pomfrey intervened. "That's enough questions. She needs to rest."

I looked towards to old woman and objected. I may have been tired, but they deserved an explanation. "No, it's okay Madame Pomfrey. I need to tell them."

Madame Pomfrey pursed her lips and looked resigned.

Harry urged me on, knowing that he'd been right. I breathed slowly, figuring out how to tell them in a way that wouldn't frighten them but also wouldn't give too much away either. I wanted to keep the particulars to myself. "Okay. What you saw did come from me." The people in the room leaned in, interested. I wished that there weren't so many people in the room, but part of them had seen my gift that night, and I knew that I could never get rid of them. "I... I was born with this _Gift. _It allows me to heal people, but using it drains me."

"It doesn't just heal does it?" asked Ron keenly, rolling up his sleeve and showing me a mark on his arm from a curse he couldn't avoid. It looked like a perfectly circular month-old wound about the size of a sickle, but the edges of it were angry and red, as if it was infected, and there were small gashes radiating from it. It looked rather like a sunburst. He must have gotten the large wound from the battle, and then when my gift was unleashed it simultaneously healed and injured its unfortunate victims. I suspected that many of the people in the room had similar strange wounds.

"No. It doesn't Ron. It can also hurt people, which is why I've had to keep it hidden my entire life. I'm not entirely sure what sets it off either. It seems to feed off of my emotions – strong ones that is – but sometimes it doesn't. Consequently, I can't _really_ control it."

"When did you get it?" Asked Hermione. I knew that should want to know everything about it. Now I suspected that she hadn't gathered as much as I thought she had, judging by how intently she was listening, but she could just be being her inquisitive self too.

"I'm not sure, really. I was probably born with it."

I watched the group, their eyes inquisitive, wondering. They seemed to have a million more questions. I didn't want to answer them all, because they would doubtless delve into the particulars. "I don't want to talk about it anymore." I said firmly. I knew that they would be disappointed, but I couldn't let them know that much. Some secrets were better left buried.

"What of your sister?" Asked Harry after the room had fallen silent for several moments. It seemed that they were trying to think of things to ask me without upsetting me or touching on sensitive topics. Surprisingly, I didn't flinch or feel like beating around the bush about Lily. Maybe now that I'd let it slip that I even _had _an older sister at one point, I could talk about her without breaking down.

"Lily... died when she was eleven... protecting me from Bellatrix." I explained. The room stilled as the reality of that sank in. I continued. "She was the kindest and most supportive big sister I could have asked for. Then she was dead before I turned five."

"Oh, I'm sorry." Harry replied. It seemed that he thought he'd asked too much and that I would close up again. I wouldn't though. It felt good to let my sister be known. She deserved to be known.

"No. It's okay. I've come to terms with her death, it just was always painful to talk about her till now. Lily was home for Winter Break from her first year here. Bellatrix and a few other Death-Eaters broke into our house on Christmas Eve and my parents fought them but Bellatrix slipped through their fingers. Lily took me and shoved me in my closet before Bellatrix killed her. My parents came before Bellatrix could kill me. That was the night she was put in Azkaban. I should have known that she'd come back for me."

The room fell silent once again as they listened to my story. Professor Dumbledore mumbled something and left the room before I laid back down on the bed, closing my eyes for a minute.

Instantly, Madame Pomfrey leapt on my apparent dosing. "Everyone out. She needs her rest."

I waited for the visitors to leave the room until I heard were various moans and groans of the other patients and Madame Pomfrey's solid footsteps as she tended them. I tried to sleep, but within an hour I was sitting back up in bed and lifting the covers to swing my legs out. Seeing me awake, Madame Pomfrey rushed over. "Can I go, Madame Pomfrey?" I asked quietly.

She bade me sit back down on the edge of the bed and I waited patiently as she looked me over. "I don't see why not."

"Thank you." I said politely, standing up and gathering my uniform that sat neatly folded on the side table. I ducked into the store room to change. When I was dressed I found that my wand was laying on the side table. I must have missed it. I picked it up and walked out of the Hospital Wing.

There was someone that I had to talk to, but I hadn't really a clue how to find him. Our houses didn't exactly interact after all. Not knowing what else to do, I simply roamed the halls aimlessly. Since he was a Prefect, he would surely be roaming the halls hunting for not-so-innocent victims.

After walking the halls for an hour or so I finally ran into the blond, literally, as he was making his way out of the Great Hall. "Hey!"

"I'm sorry, Draco. Can you give me a minute of your time?"

He looked at me and thought. I looked around and pulled him into a side hallway. It would be awkward if other students caught us talking, a Gryfindor and a Slytherin, but I needed to ask him why he came to my rescue. I knew it was more likely for Merlin to walk through the Great Hall than Draco Malfoy to go off to rescue a bunch of Gryfindors and students that he either detested or bullied to no end.

"What?" he said curtly, an icy chill tainting his voice.

I nearly lost my nerve, but continued to look into his cold gray eyes. They were hiding several conflicting emotions behind an impenetrable mask of indifference, but I knew that I could get through if I tried hard enough. I took a deep breath, collecting my resolve. "Why did you come to rescue me?"

He stood stark still, betraying no emotion, but I knew him better than anyone and knew that he was thinking very hard about what to say. I watched as the wheels turned in his head.

Finally he answered me. "I don't know."

My face fell. "Oh," I said turning away. "Thank you for saving my life Draco."

As I walked away and back into the hall I heard him whisper. "I'd do it again in a heartbeat."


	18. Complications

Chapter 18

I threw various personal effects into my trunk, struggling to keep it together. It had been three weeks since my parents had been murdered, and I was still buried under the weight of grief.

I grabbed a picture off the nightstand and stroked it lovingly, tracing my fingers along the silver frame. Three tear drops fell onto the transparent glass and I hastily wiped them away before I placed it carefully into my trunk. It was a picture of my entire family on my fifteenth birthday. To think that this picture had been taken only a year ago, on June 22. It seemed like years ago now I was this happy.

I rolled my trunk out into the main hall and passed by Draco Malfoy, whose face was indifferent as I choked back tears.

With my parents gone, I knew that there was just one thing I could do: I had to step up to the plate, take care of my siblings, and struggle to pick up the pieces.

1 month later.

Draco Malfoy endlessly adjusted his black jacket and tie while he waited for Rose to arrive. He had finally plucked up the courage to send her an owl after she moved in with the Weaselys – one of the reasons why he'd taken so long to send her said owl – and invited her to have dinner with him and his mother so that he could try and explain things. With his father in prison and hers dead, they had more in common than the year before, and he hoped that he'd sowed a seed of forgiveness in her heart by saving her life. Of course, that was not the only reason he'd rescued her from his father.

She was hurt and empty without her parents. She had a hole in her heart that seemed to cause her to gravitate toward his mother, the only other woman who was like a mother to her. Coincidentally, she sought comfort in the loving embrace of his mother only when _he _was absent.

His heart fell when he realized this, but he'd known perfectly well that if he'd happened to run into her that he would have shied away from her or gotten a frog in his throat, too cowardly to speak with her after what happened in the Department of Mysteries. He regretted not being quicker and getting her out of there sooner. Coupled with the tragedy of losing her parents, seeing them pass through the veil had caused her to lose her precarious control over her gift, and now it was likely that the Dark Lord knew about it.

Draco couldn't even imagine what the snake-like man would do to her. He shuddered at the thought as his mother walked into his room, her elegant black and maroon dinner gown setting off her white-blond hair. She walked steadily up to her son as he fiddled with his black tie for the twenty seventh time. She replaced his hands and skillfully tied it, sensing his uneasiness. She refrained from saying anything, a woman of few words, and let her eyes do the talking.

Narcissa felt someone apparate into the house, and left Draco to investigate as he looked in the mirror one last time. His tie was perfect, his suit immaculate, but his hair had gone into disarray. He picked up a comb and carefully styled his white-blond locks back into place. "Who is it Mother?" he called down.

No one answered him. His eyebrows crept upwards and he grabbed for the black wand on his dresser. "Mother?" he called again, a faint edge to his voice. Again, nothing came, and he crept out of his room and down the stairs, gluing himself against the wall with his wand at the ready.

He heard voices coming from the great room; his mother's and an other that he found vaguely remembered. "Surely you don't mean that, your Grace? He's just a boy." his mother argued in soft tones to their unexpected guest.

"Your husband should have retrieved the Prophecy. What is this I hear of your Goddaughter?" their guest shot back harshly.

"Please do not drag her into this, Your Grace."

By now Draco had a pretty good idea of who the intruder was and stealthily hid in the shadows until he could emerge and protect his mother from the Dark Lord. "It's clear to me that you are not here for my father. What do you want?" Draco snapped, taking position in front of his mother, protecting her, as he brandished his wand in front of the black robed man.

His mother intervened before he could do anything rash. "Don't be rude, Draco. His Grace is our honored guest."

Draco glanced behind him and the look in his eye told her exactly what she knew he would think. _Our only guest should be Rose._

Draco slowly lowered his wand, but kept on the alert, poised to attack at a moment's notice if the Dark Lord dared to harm his mother.

The Dark Lord's words were refined and eloquent, unusual for a man like him. He tsked at the young boy. "So testy young Draco. Dumbledore is the only one besides Potter who stands in my way. I need you to take care of him for me."

Draco's instincts screamed at him to say "no", he did not want blood on his hands, he hadn't sunk that low; but he knew that no was not an option. The Dark Lord would kill him and his mother. His jaw hardened but he kept it shut, raising his wand again.

The Dark Lord sighed, waving his hand and causing a Gothic style mirror to appear in the middle of the floor. Black smoke swirled on the reflective surface of the mirror as he spoke. "Let me put this another way, Draco Malfoy. You will do this deed for me..."

Draco cut him off, having heard enough. "Or you'll kill me."

The Dark Lord shook his bald head. "Oh no Draco, you are of no use to me dead."

The smoke on the mirror finally cleared and Draco swallowed hard as an image of Rose in a pink dress standing at their front door materialized. A loud ring filled the house, and Draco realized that the picture was current. "I'll kill _her_."

* * *

**Rose POV**

Draco was surprisingly distant at dinner. There were several times when I was tempted to wave my hand in front of his face to bring him back to reality, but I refrained from such blasphemy. Narcissa Malfoy sat at the head of the table by Draco. The gentle woman was like a mother to me, kind and graceful, always capable of bestowing a soothing word when it was needed. I was so thankful to my parents for choosing her as my godmother.

"Draco?" I prompted. He finally glanced towards me, breaking out of his trance. "You invited me here to talk to me." I pointed out, carefully slicing my roast beef and putting a small piece into my mouth after I'd finished speaking.

He looked away from me again, apparently attempting to gather his thoughts in an articulated manner. I hoped that he was going to apologize for all that had happened during our last few years at Hogwarts. I'd already made amends for my part, and made my feelings known, although it broke my heart to do it. I knew that hoping he'd apologize was far too much to ask for, but a girl could dream. I had accepted the dinner invitation strictly out of courtesy.

I dropped my fork when what fell from his perfect lips reached my stunned ears. "I wanted to apologize. I was wrong to treat the way I have been and ignored the way it was hurting you. I am genuinely sorry that I hurt you, and I want to make it up to you in any way that I can."

My mouth gapped like a fish as the words failed to register in my mind. Draco Malfoy _was _apologizing just as I'd hoped. I thought that Merlin would walk through the Great Hall before I heard those words coming from the blond. I smiled courteously at him as I gracefully picked my fork back up. "Your apology was a good start." I said sincerely.

He smiled then, and I nearly melted at the sight of it. He had a perfect beautiful smile that I was sure could charm just about any being of the feminine persuasion, and I almost felt a little jealous.

Harry would die if he knew what I was doing right now, but in my heart of hearts I wanted my friendship with my former best friend to mend and get back on track. I knew that it would never go back to the way it was; Draco and I had both changed since our pre-Hogwarts days, but there was hope for its repair with Draco's seeming willingness to make it work. I just hoped at the back of my mind that he really was willing to change and free himself from the bridle of Slytherin prejudice to be my friend again. I wouldn't ask him to trade his Slytherin friends – namely Crabbe and Goyle – for me. I wasn't the kind of friend who wanted complete and solitary fealty, demanding that I be the only person he talked to outside of family. That wasn't to assume that I approved of all of his cronies, however Pansy and Blaize were my friends too, even if we'd drifted apart over the years.

Surrounding Draco and his mother that night was a fog of fear that permeated the room in a suffocating blanket, smothering all that it touched. Something had seriously scared them recently, and I couldn't shake the feeling that I had something to do with it.

For my part I desperately hoped that Voldemort hadn't learned of my gift from Bellatrix or one of the other Death-Eaters that undoubtedly escaped that night at the Ministry. My gift – with its ability to injure, grievously, as well as heal – made it very dangerous if in the wrong hands. Voldemort would stop at nothing to get a hold of me and my powerful gift and use me as a powerful weapon to be wielded against my friends and the ones I loved. Perhaps I was giving him too much credit. He was obviously much more interested in my friend than he was in me, a bookish and insignificant healer in the grand scheme of things.

I was no longer afraid to use his name openly. Harry's reckless courage and utter fearlessness seemed to have rubbed off over the years. I still wasn't ready to take on a whole drove of Death-Eaters single-handedly on account of my dueling skills being something to be desired. I was very apprehensive to ask the best duelist I knew to tutor me, but luckily I had been studying dueling strategies when I wasn't reading up for this year or reading my healing encyclopedia.

The rest of the night was uneventful, and after I returned to the Burrow I hi-tailed it to my attic room that I shared with Hazel. Since the Burrow had expanded by about seven, it quickly ran out of space, even with the twins moving out to start their joke shop Weasely's Wizard Weases in Diagon Alley. My twin sisters got their old room, since it was already outfitted for two, while Hazel and I shared the room up here. Briar got the small room that I believe once belonged to Percy.

After I stripped out of my fancy dress and set it out to air, getting into a pair of red and gold plaid pajamas, I made my way over to the trunk of my parents personal effects that I was still going through. Actually, it had been laid out as a sort of hope-chest for me to open once I turned sixteen. Now that it was early to mid July, the ninth to be exact, and I'd been sixteen for just over two weeks, I'd been steadily sorting through the old trunk, and was nearing the bottom; or, what would be the bottom if my parents had placed an extension charm on it. I still had a slew of things to go through, although I had stumbled upon a large collection of rare coins; my mother's old Hogwarts robes, showing she'd been in Ravenclaw; and my father's baring the familiar silver and green; a long dead mandrake, placed within the chest for some reason unbeknownst to me; a Snitch that my father caught when he was Slytherin's seeker, undoubtedly playing against Harry's father; and an old photo album that I had casually flipped through when I found it just to gauge its contents. I'd hoped that it was my parent's wedding album - I'd seen so few pictures of their wedding - but it turned out to just be an old collection of family pictures, most taken when a new member of the Braddock family was born. Few featured my cousins in any aspect, and one featured people whom I'd never laid eyes on, although thay resembled Harry's aunt and uncle as he'd once described to me with distaste.

I decided to open the trunk and sift through its various contents for that photo album, wanting to examine it further. It gingerly laid on top of the rest of the chest's contents, its brown tooled leather cover beckoning me. I picked up the heavy book and carefully closed the lid of the trunk, moving to and placing my behind on the foot of my bed. Carefully I flipped pages, trying to identify the people in the various photographs as they crowded around countless happy parents holding their new additions.

I casually flipped through it, abruptly turning back to a page I'd skimmed over, my eyes widening when I recognized the people in the photograph. After further examination and reading the caption, I felt the album slip from my hands, sliding to the floor as I froze in utter bewilderment, before I cried.


End file.
